A    COMEDY    IN    THREE    ACTS 


By  the  Same  Author. 


THE  SIEGE  OF  LONDON. 

Three  Stories  in  one  volume.     121110.    $1.50. 

"  Full  of  cleverness,  and  provokes  comparison 
with  some  of  the  best  things  of  Thackeray."  — 
N.  Y.  Star. 

"  I  do  not  recall  a  work  of  fiction  for  the  last 
year  that  seems  so  absolutely  indispensable  for  one 
to  read  as  this  collection.  The  stories  are  repre 
sentative  of  Mr.  James  in  his  best,  his  most  bril 
liant,  and  most  suggestive  work  The  fascitiation 
of  Mr  Tames  is  as  illusive  as  light  and  as  all-per 
vading.  —  St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat. 

11  It  sparkles  with  the  shrewd,  acute  speeches, 
side  views  into  human  nature,  that  gained  Mr. 
James  his  first  popularity.  They  come  upon  one 
unexpectedly,  impromptu,  a  senes  of  fascinating 
surprises." —  Yale  Courant. 


JAMES  E.  OSGOOD  &  CO,,  Boston, 


HENRY    JAME$:, 


DAISY  MILLER 


a  Cornea? 


IN    THREE    ACTS 


BOSTON 
JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  AND  COMPANY 

1883 


\  (Ha 

<*3 


<6* 


Copyright,  1883, 

BY   HOUGHTON,    MlFFLIN   AND   COMPANY, 


AND 


JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved. 


PK1NTED    BT    JOHN    WILSON    AND    SON, 
PRZSS. 


©ramatig 


£^T  A"   f 

YrJiA        FREDERICK  WINTERBOURNE.  .        MRS.  COSTELLO./ 

HARLES   KEVERDY.  v>x-v  ^    M/DAME  DE   KATKOFF. 

GlACOMO    GlOVANELU/  .ALICE   DURANTi 

i" 


MRS.  WALKER. 


RANDOLPH  MILLER.  "^  DAISY  MILLER.  - 

A  WAITER. 

i 

An  Hotel  on  the,  Lake  of  Geneva  .....  ACT  I. 
The  Promenade  of  the  Pincian,  Rome  ....  "II. 
An  Hotel  in  Rome  .  ........  "  III. 


DAISY   MILLER 


ACT    FIRST. 

Garden  and  terrace  of  an  hotel  on  the  Lake  of  Geneva.  The  portico 
of  the  hotel  to  the  left,  with  steps  leading  up  to  it.  In  the  back 
ground  a  low  parapet  dividing  the  garden  from  the  lake,  and  divided 
itself  by  a  small  gate  opening  upon  a  flight  of  steps  which  are  sup 
posed  to  descend  to  a  pier.  Beyond  this  a  distant  view  of  mountains 
and  of  the  lake,  with  the  Chateau  de  Chillon.  Orange-trees  in 
green  tubs,  benches,  a  few  small  tables  and  chairs. 


SCENE    FIBST. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,   EUGENIO. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,    coming  in  as  if  a  little  startled,  with  a  Trench 
book  in  a  pink  cover  under  her  arm. 

I  believe  he  means  to  speak  to   me  !     He  is  capable  of 
any  impertinence. 

EUGENIO,  following  slowly,  handsomely  dressed,  with  a  large  watchguard,  and 
a  courier's  satchel  over  his  shoulder.    He  takes  off  his  hat  and  hows  obse 
quiously,  hut  with  a  certain  mock  respect. 

Madame  does  me  the  honor  to  recognize  me,  I  think. 


8  DAISY  MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Certainly  I  recognize  you.  I  never  forget  my  servants, 
especially  (with  a  little  laugh)  the  faithful  ones  ! 

EUGENIC. 

Madame's  memory  is  perhaps  slightly  at  fault  in  leading 
her  to  speak  of  me  as  a  servant ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

What  were  you,  then  ?     A  friend,  possibly  ? 

EUGENIO. 

May  I  not  say  that  I  was,  at  least  on  a  certain  occasion, 
an  adviser  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

In  the  way  of  occasions,  I  remember  only  the  one  on 
which  I  turned  you  out  of  the  house. 

EUGENIO. 

You  remember  it  with  a  little  regret,  I  hope. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

An  immense  deal — that  I  hadn't  dismissed  you  six 
months  sooner ! 

EUGENIO. 

I  comprehend  the  regret  of  Madame.  It  was  in  those  six 
months  that  an  incident  occurred  —  (He  pauses.) 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

An  incident  ? 

EUGENIO. 

An  incident  which  it  is  natural  that  Madame  should  not 
have  desired  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  persons  occupy 
ing  a  position,  however  humble,  near  Madame. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,   aside. 

He  is  more  than  impertinent  —  he  is  dangerous.  (Aloud.) 
You  are  very  audacious.  You  took  away  a  great  deal  of 
money. 


ACT   FIRST:    SCENE   FIRST.  9 

EUGENIC. 

Madame  appears  still  to  have  an  abundance. 

MADAME  DE  KATKOFF,  looking  at  him  a  moment. 

Yes,  I  have  enough. 

EUGEN10,  smiling. 

Madame  is  to  be  congratulated !  I  have  never  ceased 
to  take  an  interest  in  Madame.  I  have  followed  her  —  at  a 
distance. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

The  greater  the  distance,  the  better ! 

EUGENIC,  significantly. 

Yes,  I  remember  that  Madame  was  very  fond  of  her  pri 
vacy.  But  I  intrude  as  little  as  possible.  I  have  duties  at 
present  which  give  me  plenty  of  occupation.  Not  so  much, 
indeed,  as  when  I  was  in  the  employment  of  Monsieur  de 
Katkoff :  that  was  the  busiest  part  of  my  life.  The  Eussians 
are  very  exacting  —  the  Americans  are  very  easy  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  are  with  Americans  now  ? 

EUGENIC. 

Madame  sees  that  she  is  willing  to  talk !  I  am  travelling 
with  a  family  from  New  York  —  a  family  of  three  persons. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  have  no  excuse,  then,  for  detaining  me ;  you  know 
where  to  find  conversation. 

EUGENIC. 

Their  conversation  is  not  so  agreeable  as  that  of  Madame  ! 
(with  a  slight  change  of  tone.)  I  know  more  about  you  than  you 
perhaps  suspect. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  know  what  you  know. 


10  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

EUGENIO. 

Oh,  I  don't  allude  to  Madame's  secrets.  I  should  never 
be  so  indiscreet !  It  is  not  a  secret  to-day  that  Madame  has 
a  charming  villa  on  this  lovely  lake,  about  three  miles  from 
Geneva. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

No,  that  is  not  a  secret. 

EUGENIO. 

And  that  though  she  leads  a  life  of  elegant  seclusion,  suited 
to  the  mourning  which  she  has  never  laid  aside  —  though 
she  has  lightened  it  a  little  —  since  she  became  a  widow, 
Madame  does  not  entirely  shut  her  doors.  She  receives  •* 
few  privileged  persons. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

What  on  earth  is  he  coming  to  ?     (Aloud.)     Do  you  aspire 

to  be  one  of  them  ? 

EUGENIO. 

I  should  count  upon  it  the  day  I  should  have  something 
particular  to  say  to  Madame.  But  that  day  may  never 
come. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

Let  us  hope  so  ! 

EUGENIO. 

Let  us  hope  so !  Meanwhile  Madame  is  in  a  position  to 
know  as  well  as  myself  that  —  as  I  said  just  now  —  the 
Americans  are  very  easy. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

The  Americans  ? 

EUGENIO. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  Madame  does  n't  find  them  so  ?  Her 
most  privileged  visitor  is  of  that  nationality  !  Has  he  dis 
covered  —  like  me  —  that  the  Russians  are  very  exacting  ? 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  FIRST.  11 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  looking  at  him  a  moment,  then  quickly,  though 
with  an  effort. 

The  Russians,  when  their  antagonists  go  too  far,  can  be 
as  dangerous  as  any  one  else !  I  forget  your  nationality. 

EUGENIO. 

I  am  not  sure  that  Madame  ever  knew  it.  I'm  an  Italian 
Swiss,  a  native  of  the  beautiful  city  of  Lugano.  Is  Madame 
acquainted  with  Lugano  ?  If  she  should  go  that  way,  I 
recommend  the  Hotel  Washington  :  always  our  Americans, 
you  see  !  The  Russians  ?  They  are  the  most  dangerous 
people  I  know,  and  we  gentlemen  who  take  charge  of  fami 
lies  know  everything. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  had  better  add  frankly  that  you  traffic  in  your  knowl 
edge. 

EUGENIO. 

What  could  be  more  just  ?  It  costs  us  a  good  deal  to 
get  it. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  to  herself,  after  a  pause. 

It  is  best  to  know  the  worst,  and  have  done  with  it. 
(Aloud.)  How  much  do  you  want  ? 

EUGENIO. 

How  much  do  I  want  for  what?  For  keeping  quiet  about 
Mr.  Winterbourne,  so  that  his  family  shan't  think  he 's 
wasting  his  time,  and  come  out  from  America  to  bring  him 
home  ?  You  see  I  know  even  his  name !  He  's  supposed 
to  be  at  Geneva  for  purposes  of  study. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

How  much  do  you  want  to  go  away  and  never  let  me  see 
you  again  ?  Be  merciful.  Remember  that  I  'm  not  rich. 

EUGENIO. 
I  know  exactly  the  fortune  of  Madame  !     She  is  not  rich, 


12  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

for  very  good  reasons  —  she  was  exceedingly  extravagant  in 
her  youth  !  On  the  other  hand,  she  is  by  no  means  in 
misery.  She  is  not  rich,  like  the  American  lady  —  the 
amiable  Mrs.  Miller  —  whom  I  have  at  present  the  honor  to 
serve ;  but  she  is  able  to  indulge  herself  with  the  usual 
luxuries. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It  would  be  a  luxury  to  get  rid  of  you ! 

EUGENIC. 

Ah,  I  'm  not  sure  that  Madame  can  afford  that ;  that 
would  come  under  the  head  of  extras  !  Moreover,  I  'in  not 
in  want  of  money.  The  amiable  Mrs.  Miller  — 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  interrupting. 

The  amiable  Mrs.  Miller  is  as  great  a  fool  as  I  ? 

EUGENIO. 

I  should  never  think  of  comparing  her  with  Madame ! 
Madame  has  much  more  the  appearance  of  one  who  is  born 
to  command.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  approached  her 
with  the  utmost  deliberation.  I  recognized  her  three  days 
ago,  the  evening  she  arrived  at  the  hotel,  and  I  pointed  her 
out  to  Mrs.  Miller  as  a  Kussian  lady  of  great  distinction, 
whose  husband  I  had  formerly  the  honor  to  serve  in  a  very 
confidential  position.  Mrs.  Miller  has  a  daughter  even  more 
amiable  than  herself,  and  this  young  lady  was  profoundly 
impressed  with  the  distinguished  appearance  of  Madame. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Her  good  opinion  is  doubtless  of  great  value  ;  but  I  sup 
pose  it  's  hardly  to  assure  me  of  that  — 

EUGENIO. 

I  may  add  that  I  did  n't  permit  myself  to  make  any 
further  remarks. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  FIRST.  13 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

And  your  discretion  's  an  example  of  what  you  are  capa 
ble  of  doing  ?  I  should  be  happy  to  believe  it,  and  if  you 
have  not  come  to  claim  your  reward  — 

EUGENIC. 

My  reward  ?  My  reward  shall  be  this  :  that  we  leave  the 
account  open  between  us!  (changing  his  tone  entirely.)  Let  me 
speak  to  you  very  frankly.  Some  eight  years  ago,  when  you 
were  thirty  years  old,  you  were  living  at  Dresden. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  was  living  at  Dresden,  but  I  was  not  thirty  years  old. 

EUGENIO. 

The  age  does  n't  matter  —  we  will  call  it  twenty,  if  you 
like  :  that  makes  me  younger,  too.  At  that  time  I  was 
under  your  roof ;  I  was  the  confidential  servant,  on  a  very 
exceptional  footing,  of  M.  de  Katkoff.  He  had  a  great  deal 
of  business  —  a  great  deal  of  diplomatic  business  ;  and  as 
he  employed  me  very  often  to  write  for  him  —  do  you  re 
member  my  beautiful  hand  ?  —  I  was  not  so  much  a  servant 
as  a  secretary.  At  any  rate,  I  was  in  a  position  to  observe 
that  you  had  a  quarrel  with  your  husband. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

In  a  position  ?  I  should  think  you  were  !  He  paid  you  to 
spy  upon  me. 

EUGENIO. 

To  spy  upon  you  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

To  watch  me — to  follow  me  —  to  calumniate  me. 

EUGENIO,  smiling. 

That 's  just  the  way  you  used  to  talk !  You  were  always 
violent,  and  that  gave  one  an  advantage. 


14  DAISY   MILLER:    A   COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

All  tliis  is  insupportable.  Please  to  spare  me  your  remi 
niscences,  and  come  to  the  point. 

EUGENIC. 

The  point  is  this  —  that  I  got  the  advantage  of  you  then, 
and  that  I  have  never  lost  it !  Though  you  did  n't  care  for 
your  husband,  you  cared  for  some  one  else ;  and  M.  de  Kat- 
koff  —  -with  my  assistance,  if  you  will  —  discovered  the 
object  of  your  preference.  Need  I  remind  you  of  what  fol 
lowed,  the  day  this  discovery  became  known  to  you  ?  lour 
surprise  was  great,  because  you  thought  yourself  safe ;  but 
your  anger  was  even  greater.  You  found  me  for  a  moment 
in  your  path,  and  you  imagined  —  for  that  moment  — 
that  I  was  a  Russian  serf.  The  mistake  had  serious  con 
sequences.  You  called  me  by  the  vilest  of  names  —  and  I 
have  never  forgotten  it ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  thank  you  for  reminding  me  of  my  contempt.  It  was 
extremely  sweet. 

EUGENIO. 

It  made  you  very  reckless.  I  got  possession  of  two 
letters,  addressed  to  the  person  I  speak  of,  and  singularly 
rash  compositions.  They  bear  your  signature  in  full. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Can  there  be  any  better  proof  that  I  have  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of  ? 

EUGENIO. 

You  were  not  ashamed  then,  because,  as  I  have  already 
remarked,  you  were  reckless.  But  to-day  you  are  wise. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  proudly. 

Whatever  I  have  said  —  I  have  always  signed ! 


ACT  FIRST:    SCENE   FIRST.  15 

EUGENIC. 

It  's  a  habit  I  appreciate.  One  of  those  letters  I  gave  to 
M.  de  Katkoff ;  the  other  —  the  best  —  I  kept  for  myself. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

What  do  you  mean  by  the  best? 

EUGENIC. 

I  mean  —  the  worst ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It  can't  be  very  bad. 

EUGENIC,  smiling. 

Should  you  like  me  to  submit  it  to  a  few  of  your  friends  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

Horrible  man !  (Aloud.)  That 's  the  point,  then  :  you 
wish  to  sell  it. 

EUGENIC. 

No  ;  I  only  wish  you  to  know  I  have  it. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  knew  that  already.     What  good  does  it  do  you  ? 

EUGENIC. 

You  suspected  it,  but  you  did  n't  know  it.  The  good  it 
does  me  is  this  —  that  when,  as  sometimes  happens  to  us 
poor  members  of  a  despised  and  laborious  class,  I  take  stock 
of  my  prospects  and  reckon  up  the  little  advantages  I  may 
happen  to  possess,  I  like  to  feel  that  particular  one  among 
them. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  see  —  you  regard  it  as  a  part  of  your  capital.  But  you 
draw  no  income. 

EUGENIC. 
Ah,  the  income,  Madame,  is  accumulating  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

If  you  are  trying  to  frighten  me,  you  don't  —  very  much  ! 


16  DAISY   MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

EUGENIO. 

Very  much  —  no!  But  enough  is  as  good  as  a  feast. 
There  is  no  telling  what  may  happen.  We  couriers  have 
our  ups  and  downs,  and  some  duy  I  may  be  in  distress. 
Then,  and  only  then,  if  I  feel  a  pinch,  I  shall  call  on 
Madame.  For  the  present  — 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

For  the  present,  you  only  wish  to  insult  me ! 
EUGENIO. 

Madame  does  injustice  to  my  manners  :  they  are  usually 
much  appreciated.  For  the  rest  of  the  time  that  we  remain 
under  the  same  roof — so  to  speak  —  I  shall  not  again  dis 
turb  your  meditations. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Be  so  good  as  to  leave  me. 

EUGENIO. 

I  wish  Madame  a  very  good  morning  !    (He  goes  into  the  hotel.) 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  stands  a  moment,  thinking. 

That's  what  it  is  to  have  been  a  fool  —  for  a  single 
moment!  That  moment  reechoes  through  eternity.  He 
has  shaken  my  nerves,  and  in  this  wretched  garden  one  is 

always  observed.      (Exit  into  the  hotel.) 


SCENE   SECOND. 

MRS.  COSTELLO,  MISS  DURANT,  CHARLES  REVERDY. 

They  come  out  of  the  hotel  as  Madame  de  Katkoff  passes  into  it,  looking 
at  her  attentively. 

REVERDY,  who  carries  a  camp-stool. 

That 's   the   biggest    swell    in    the    house  —  a    Russian 
princess ! 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  SECOND.  17 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

A  Eussian  princess  is  nothing  very  great.  We  have 
found  one  at  every  hotel. 

REVERDY. 

Well,  this  is  the  best  of  them  all.  You  would  notice  her 
anywhere. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

The  best  bred  people_are_the_people  you  notice  least. 

REVEllDY. 

She  's  very  quiet,  any  way.     She  speaks  to  no  one. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  mean  by  that  that  no  one  speaks  to  her. 

REVERDY,   aside. 

The  old  lady 's  snappish  this  morning :  hanged  if  I  '11 
stand  it !  (Aloud.)  No  one  speaks  to  her,  because  no  one 
ventures  to. 

MISS    DURANT. 

You  ventured  to,  I  think,  and  she  did  n't  answer  you. 
That  's  what  you  mean  by  her  being  quiet ! 

REVERDY. 

She  dropped  her  fan,  and  I  picked  it  up  and  gave  it  to 
her.  She  thanked  me  with  a  smile  that  was  a  poem  in 
itself :  she  did  n't  need  to  speak  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  need  n't  mind  waiting  on  Eussian  princesses.  Your 
business  is  to  attend  to  us  — till  my  nephew  comes. 

REVERDY,    looking  at,  his  watch. 

As  I  understand  you,  he 's  already  due. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

He 's  a  quarter  of  an  hour  late.  We  are  waiting  break 
fast. 


18  DAISY   MILLER:   A    COMEDY. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  'm  afraid  the  delay  will  bring  on  one  of  your  headaches. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  have  one  already,  so  it  does  n't  matter ! 

REVERDY,  aside. 

Very  convenient,  those  headaches!  (Aloud.)  Won't  you 
sit  down,  at  least?  (offering camp-stool.)  You  know  I  don't 
come  out  for  three  minutes  without  our  little  implement. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  don't  care  for  that ;  I  '11  sit  on  a  bench. 

REVERDY,   aside. 

She  insists  on  my  bringing  it,  and  yet  she  won't  use  it ! 

(The  ladies  seat  themselves,  and  lie  places  himself  between  them,  astride  the  camp- 
stool.  He  continues,  aloud.)  If  Mr.  Winterboume  is  already  due, 
my  holiday  has  legally  begun. 

MISS    DURANT. 

You  won't  lose  anything  by  waiting.  After  he  comes  you 
will  be  at  perfect  liberty. 

REVERDY. 

Oh  yes,  after  that  you  won't  look  at  me,  I  suppose! 
Miss  Durant  is  counting  very  much  on  Mr.  Winterboume. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

And  I  am  counting  very  much  on  Miss  Durant.  You  are 
to  be  very  nice  to  him,  you  know. 

MISS    DURANT. 

That  will  depend  on  how  I  like  him. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

That 's  not  what  I  brought  you  to  Europe  for  —  to  make 
conditions.  Besides,  Frederick  's  a  perfect  gentleman. 

MISS    DURANT. 

You  seem  to  wish  me  to  promise  to  marry  him.  I  must 
wait  till  he  asks  me,  you  know. 


ACT   FIRST:   SCENE 


REVERDY. 

He  will  ask  you  if  Mrs.  Costello  bids  him.  He  is  evi 
dently  in  excellent  training. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  have  n't  seen  him  for  ten  years  :  at  that  time  he  was  a 
model  nephew. 

REVERDY. 

I  should  n't  wonder  if  he  were  to  turn  out  a  regular 
"  hard  "  one.  That  would  be  a  jolly  lark  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

That  's  not  his  reputation.  Moreover,  he  has  been  brought 
up  in  Geneva,  the  most  moral  city  in  Europe. 

REVERDY. 

You  can  't  tell  anything  from  that.  Here  am  I,  brought 
up  in  New  York  —  and  we  all  know  what  New  York  is. 
Yet  where  can  you  find  a  more  immaculate  young  man  ?  I 
have  n't  a  fault  —  I  'm  ashamed  of  myself  ! 

MISS    DURANT. 

If  Mr.  Winterbourne  is  a  little  wild,  I  shan't  like  him  any 
the  less.  Some  faults  are  very  charming. 

REVERDY. 

Tell  me  what  they  are,  and  I  '11  try  and  acquire  them. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

My  dear  Alice,  I  'm  startled  by  your  sentiments.  I  have 
tried  to  form  your  taste  .  .  . 

MISS    DURANT. 

Yes,  but  you  have  only  cultivated  my  dislikes.  Those 
are  a  few  of  my  preferences. 

REVERDY. 

Tell  us  a  few  more  of  them  —  they  sound  awfully  spicy  ! 


20  DAISY  MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  'ra  very  fond  of  a  certain  indifference.  I  like  men  who 
are  not  always  running  after  you  with  a  camp-stool,  and  who 
don't  seem  to  care  whether  you  like  them  or  not. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

If  you  like  rude  men,  they  are  very  easily  found.  If  I 
did  n't  know  you  were  a  very  nice  girl,  I  should  take  you 
for  —  I  don't  know  what ! 

REVERDY. 

Miss  Durant's  remarks  are  addressed  to  me,  and  between 
you  two  ladies  it 's  hard  to  know  what  to  do.  You  want  me 
to  be  always  at  your  elbow,  and  you  make  a  great  point  of 
the  camp-stool.  Will  you  have  it  a  little,  for  a  change  ? 

(Getting  up  and  offering  it.    Mrs.  Costello  refuses  with  a  gesture.)       I    don't 

offer  it  to  Miss  Alice  ;  we  have  heard  what  she  thinks  of  it ! 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  did  n't  speak  of  that  piece  of  furniture :  I  spoke  of  the 
person  who  carries  it. 

REVERDY. 

The  person  who  carries  the  camp-stool?  Is  that  what 
I  've  come  to  be  known  by  ?  Look  here,  my  dear  friends, 
you  ought  to  engage  a  courier. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

To  cheat  us  out  of  our  eyes  ?     Thank  you  very  much  ! 

REVERDY. 

A  courier  with  a  gorgeous  satchel,  and  a  feather  in  his 
hat  —  like  those  ladies  from  Schenectady ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

So  that  he  might  smoke  in  our  faces,  as  he  does  in  theirs, 
and  have  his  coffee  with  us  after  dinner,  as  he  does  with 
them  ?  They  have  ruined  a  good  servant. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE   SECOND.  21 

MISS    DURANT. 

They  treat  him  as  an  equal ;  they  make  him  their  com 
panion. 

REVERDY. 

But  they  give  him  handsome  wages  —which  is  more  than 
you  do  me ! 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  have  no  doubt  they  give  him  little  tokens  of  affection, 
and  locks  of  their  hair.  But  that  makes  them  only  the  more 
dreadful ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  'm  glad  to  see,  my  dear,  that  your  taste  is  coming  back 
to  you ! 

REVERDY. 

Oh,  if  taste  consists  in  demolishing  Miss  Daisy  Miller, 
she  can  take  the  prize. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Demolishing  her  ?  I  should  be  sorry  to  take  that  trouble. 
I  think  her  very  vulgar:  that 's  all ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Miss  Daisy  Miller  ?     Is  that  her  distinguished  name  ? 

REVERDY,  aside. 

Ah,  we  can't  all  be  named  Costello  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

They  are  the  sort  of  Americans  that  one  does  one's  duty 
by  not  accepting. 

REVERDY. 

Ah,  you  don't  accept  her  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  would  if  I  could  -  but  I  can't.  One  should  let  Euro 
peans  know  — 


22  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

REVERDY. 

One  should  let  them  know  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

That  we  are  not  all  like  that. 

REVERDY. 

They  can  see  it  for  themselves  :  she 's  charmingly  pretty. 

MISS    DURANT. 

You  are  extremely  impertinent. 

REVERDY,  aside. 

I  put  in  one  that  time.  (Aloud.)  I  can't  help  it  j  she  's 
lovely. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

And  is  the  mamma  lovely,  too  ?  Has  any  one  ever  seen 
the  mamma? 

REVERDY. 

She 's  sick  in  bed  —  she 's  always  sick. 

MISS    DURANT. 

The  courier  sits  with  her,  and  gives  her  her  medicine. 

EEVERDY. 

I  hope  you  call  that  devoted,  then  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

It  does  n't  matter,  because  the  head  of  the  family  is  the 
little  boy.  He  orders  the  dinner ;  he  has  the  best  seat  in 
the  carriage. 

REVERDY. 

He 's  the  most  amusing  little  specimen.  He  has  the 
heart  of  a  patriot  in  the  body  of  a  —  (Hesitates  for  a  word.) 

MISS    DURANT. 

In  the  body  of  a  grasshopper ! 

REVERDY. 

He  hops  a  good  deal,  or,  rather,  I  should  say,  he  flies ; 
for  there  is  a  good  deal  of  the  spread-eagle  about  him. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  SECOND.  23 

MISS    DURANT. 

He  leaves  his  toys  all  over  the  hotel;  I  suppose  you 
would  say  his  plumes. 

REVERDY. 

Well,  he's  a  dauntless  American  infant ;  a  child  of  nature 
and  of  freedom. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Oh,  nature  and  freedom !  We  have  heard  too  much  of 
them. 

REVERDY. 

Wait  till  you  are  stopped  at  the  New  York  custom-house  ! 
The  youthful  Miller  and  I  have  struck  up  a  friendship :  he 
introduced  me  to  his  sister. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  don't  mean  to  say  you  spoke  to  her ! 

REVERDY. 

Spoke  to  her  ?     Yes,  indeed  —  and  she  answered  me. 

MISS    DURANT. 

She  was  not  like  the  Russian  princess  ! 

REVERDY. 

No,  she  's  as  little  as  possible  like  the  Russian  princess ; 
but  she  's  very  charming  in  another  style.  As  soon  as  Mr! 
Winterbourne  arrives  (and  you  must  excuse  me  for  saying 
that  he  takes  a  deuce  of  a  time  about  it),  I  shall  console  my 
self  for  the  loss  of  your  society  by  plunging  into  that  of  the 
Millers. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  won't  lose  us,  Mr.  Reverdy :  you  can  console  your 
self  with  me. 

REVERDY. 

Oh,  thank  you  ! 


24  DAISY  MILLER:  A   COMEDY. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Frederick  will  devote  himself  to  Alice. 

MISS    DURANT. 

We  had  better  wait  till  he  comes  !  I  have  no  patience 
with  his  delay. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Neither  have  I,  my  dear ;  but  I  may  as  well  take  the  op 
portunity  of  remarking  that  a  young  lady  should  n't  seem 
too  eager  .  .  . 

MISS   DURANT. 

Too  eager  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

For  the  arrival  of  a  gentleman. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  see  what  you  mean  —  more  reserve.  But  simply  before 
you  ... 

KEVERDY. 

And  before  me,  please.     Am  I  nobody  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 

Nobody  at  all! 

REVERDY. 

Well,  I  don't  care,  for  I  descry  in  the  distance  the  ador 
able  Miss  Miller ! 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  'm  glad  she 's  in  the  distance. 

REVERDY. 

Ah,  but  she 's  coming  this  way. 

MISS   DURANT,  quickly. 

I  forbid  you  to  speak  to  her. 

REVERDY,  aside. 

Ah,  then  I  am  somebody  ?  (Aloud.)  I  can't  cut  the  poor 
girl,  you  know. 


ACT  FIRST:    SCENE  SECOND.  25 

MISS   DURANT. 

You  need  n't  see  her.     You  can  look  at  me. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

She  's  always  wandering  about  the  garden  —  the  image  of 
idleness  and  inanity. 

REVERDY. 

She  's  not  as  serious  as  we,  nor  as  well  occupied,  certainly ; 
but  she 's  bored  to  death.     She  has  got  no  one  to  flirt  with. 

MISS    DURANT. 

She  shall  not  flirt  with  you,  at  any  rate  ! 

REVERDY. 

Do  you  wish  me  to  hide  behind  a  tree  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 
No,  you    Can    sit   down  here  (indicating  the  bench  beside  her),  and 

take  my  parasol  —  so !  —  and  hold  it  before  your  face,  as  if 
you  were  shading  your  eyes. 

REVERDY,  with  the  parasol. 

From  Miss  Daisy  Miller  ?     It 's  true  she 's  very  dazzling! 

(Daisy  enters  from  the  right,  strolling  slowly,  as  if  she  has  nothing  to  do,  and 
passes  across  the  stage  in  front  of  the  others,  who  sit  silent,  watching  her,  Reverdy 
peeping  for  a  moment  from  behind  his  parasol.  "  She  was  dressed  in  white  mus 
lin,  with  a  hundred  frills  and  flounces,  and  knots  of  pale-colored  ribbon.  She  was 
bare-headed ;  but  she  balanced  in  her  hand  a  large  parasol,  with  a  deep  border  of 
embroidery ;  and  she  was  strikingly,  admirably  pretty."  1  She  looks  at  the  others 
as  she  passes  them,  and  goes  out  on  the  left  — not  into  the  hotel.  Reverdy  con 
tinues.)  Now,  then,  may  I  look  out  ? 

MISS    DURANT,  taking  back  her  parasol. 

She  saw  you,  I  'in  happy  to  say. 

REVERDY. 

Oh  yes,  I  gave  her  a  wink ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

That 's  the  way  she  roams  about  — 

1  From  the  story. 


26  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Seeking  whom  she  may  devour  ! 

REVERDY. 

Poor  little  creature !  I  'm  the  only  tolerably  good-looking 
young  man  in  the  hotel. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Mercy  on  us  !     I  hope  she  won't  get  hold  of  Frederick ! 

REVERDY. 

Not  if  I  can  help  it,  dear  Madam.  I  have  never  seen 
Frederick  —  but  I  mistrust  Frederick. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

He 's  not  at  all  in  your  style.  He  Js  had  a  foreign  educa 
tion.  He  speaks  a  dozen  languages. 

REVERDY,  aside. 

An  awful  prig  —  I  can  see  that. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Let  us  hope  that,  thanks  to  his  foreign  education,  he  will 
be  out  of  danger.  Such  people  as  that  can  only  disgust 
him. 

REVERDY. 

I  know  the  style  of  fellow  you  mean  —  a  very  high  collar 
and  a  very  stiff  spine!  He  speaks  a  dozen  languages — but 
he  does  n't  speak  the  language  of  Schenectady.  He  won't 
understand  an  American  girl  —  he  had  better  leave  her 
alone. 

MISS   DURANT. 

I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you — for  me! 

Enter  a  waiter  from  the  hotel. 
REVERDY. 

Oh,  you  are  not  an  American  ;  you  're  an  angel ! 

THE   WAITER,  approaching  with  a  bow. 

The  breakfast  that  Madame  ordered  is  served. 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE  THIRD.  27 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  to  her  companions. 

It 's  just  twelve  o'clock ;   we  certainly  can 't  wait  any 
longer. 

MISS   DURANT. 

I  don 't  believe  he 's  coming  at  all ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Ah,  if  I  've  only  brought  on  a  headache  for  nothing ! 

REVERDY,  aside. 

Won't  he  catch  it  when  he  arrives  ?     (They  pass  into  the  hotel, 

the  waiter  leading  the  way.) 


SCENE   THIRD. 
EUGENIO,  THEN  WINTERBOURNE  AND  THE  WAITER. 

Eugenio  comes  out  of  the  hotel,  then  looks  about  him  and  begins  to  call. 
He  is  without  his  hat  and  satchel. 

EUGENIO. 

Meester  Randolph  !  Meester  Randolph  !  Confound  that 
infernal  child — it 's  the  fifth  time  this  morning  that  I 've 
chased  him  round  the  garden  !  (stands  calling  again.)  Meester 
Randolph !  Meester  Randolph !  He  is  always  there  when 
he 's  not  wanted  and  never  when  he  is,  and  when  I  find  him 
I  have  n't  even  the  right  to  pinch  his  ear  !  He  begins  to 
kick  like  a  little  mule,  and  he  has  nails  in  his  boots  • —  for 
the  mountains.  Meester  Randolph  !  Meester  Randolph ! 
Drat  the  little  wretch  —  I  'm  a  courier,  not  a  nurse !  (Exit  to 

the  right,  while  Winterbourne  comes  down  from  the  hotel,  followed  by  a  waiter,  the 
same  who  has  Just  appeared,  carrying  a  little  tray  with  a  service  of  black  coffee.) 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  will  have  my  coffee   here,  it 's  so  close  in  the  hotel. 

(The  waiter  places  the  tray  on  a  small  table,  which  he  draws  up  to  a  bench.  Winter- 
bourne  takes  out  a  card,  on  which,  on  his  pocket-book,  he  writes  a  few  words.) 


DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

And  please  to  take  that  card  to  the  lady  whose  name  I  have 
written  there,  and  ask  her  when  it  will  be  convenient  for  her 
to  see  me. 

THE   WAITER,  looking  at  the  card. 

The  Eussian  lady  who  arrived  three  days  ago  ?     I  will  let 
you  know,  sir. 

WINTERBOURNE,   seated  at  the  little  table. 

Wait  a  moment.     Do  you  know  whether  Mrs.  Costello 
has  breakfasted  ? 

THE   WAITER. 

Mrs.  Costello  ?     The  lady  with  the  young  lady,  and  the 
gentleman  also  young? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  know  nothing  about  her  companions.     A  lady  with  her 
hair  very  high.     She  is  rather  —  rather 

THE   WAITER. 

Yes,  sir,  she  is  rather  high  altogether  !     When  she  gives 
an  order  — 

WINTERBOURNE,  pouring  out  his  coffee. 

I  don't  ask  you  to  describe  her  — I  ask  you  if  she  has 
breakfasted. 

THE    WAITER. 

The  party  'a  at  table  now,  sir.  I  conducted  them  myself 
five  minutes  ago.  I  think  they  waited  for  you,  sir;  they 
expected  you  to  arrive. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  arrived  an  hour  ago,  by  the  train;  but  I  was  dusty,  and 
-  had  to  have  a  bath.  (Lighting  a  cigarette.)  Then  while  I 
dressed,  to  save  time,  I  had  my  breakfast  brought  to  iny 
room.  Where  do  they  usually  take  their  coffee  ? 

THE    WAITER. 

They  take  it  in  our  beautiful  garden,  sir. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  FOURTH.  29 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Very  good.     I  will  wait  for  them  here.    That  's  all.     (The 

waiter  reenters  the  hotel.    Winterbourne  puffs  Ms  cigarette.)       There    IS   HO 

use  in  being  in  a  hurry.  I  want  to  be  eager —  but  I  don't 
want  to  be  too  eager.  That  worthy  man  is  quite  right; 
when  Aunt  Louisa  gives  an  order,  it 's  a  military  command. 
She  has  ordered  me  up  from  Geneva,  and  I  've  marched  at 
the  word ;  but  I  '11  rest  a  little  before  reporting  at  head 
quarters.  (Puffs  his  cigarette.)  It  coincides  very  happily,  for  I 
don't  know  that,  without  this  pretext,  I  should  have  ven 
tured  to  come.  Three  days  ago,  the  waiter  said  ?  A  week 
ago,  at  the  villa,  they  told  me  she  had  gone.  There  is 
always  a  mystery  in  that  woman's  movements.  Yes,  Aunt 
Louisa  is  rather  high ;  but  it 's  not  of  her  I  'm  afraid  ! 

(Puffs  a  moment  in  silence.) 


SCENE   FOUETH. 
WINTERBOURNE,  RANDOLPH,  THEN  DAISY. 

RANDOLPH.  He  comes  in  from  the  back,  approaches  WinteAourne,  and 
stops.  "  The  child,  who  was  diminutive  for  his  years,  had  an  aged  expression  of 
countenance,  a  pale  complexion,  and  sharp  little  features.  He  was  dressed  in 
knickerbockers,  with  red  stockings,  which  displayed  his  poor  little  spindle- 
shanks  ;  he  also  wore  a  brilliant  red  cravat.  He  carried  in  his  hand  a  long 
alpenstock,  the  sharp  point  of  which  he  thrust  into  everything  that  he  ap 
proached— the  flower-beds,  the  garden-benches.  .  .  .  In  front  of  Winterbourne 
lie  paused,  looking  at  him  with  a  pair  of  bright,  penetrating  little  eyes."  1 
Winterbourne,  smoking,  returns  his  gaze. 

Will  you  give  me  a  lump  of  sugar  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Yes,  you  may  take  one;  but  I  don't  think  sugar  is  good 
for  little  boys. 

1  From  the  story. 


30  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

EANDOLPH.      He  steps  forward  and  carefully  possesses  himself  of  the  whole 
contents  of  the  plate.    From  these  he  still  more  carefully  selects  the  largest  lump, 
depositing  the  others  in  his  pocket.     Biting,  with  a  grimace. 

Oh,  blazes  !  it 's  hard  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Take  care,  young  man.     You  '11  hurt  your  teeth. 

RANDOLPH. 

I  have  n't  got  any  teeth  to  hurt ;  they  've  all  come  out. 
I  've  only  got  seven  teeth.  Mother  counted  them  last  night, 
and  one  came  out  afterwards.  She  said  she  'd  slap  me  if 
any  more  came  out.  I  can't  help  it  —it 's  this  old  Europe. 
It  's  the  climate  that  makes  'em  come  out.  In  America 
they  did  n't  come  out ;  it  's  these  hotels  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  you  eat  all  that  sugar,  your  mother  will  certainly  slap 
you. 

RANDOLPH. 

She 's  got  to  give  me  some  candy,  then.  I  can't  get  any 
candy  here  —  any  American  candy.  American  candy  's  the 
best. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

And  are  American  boys  the  best  little  boys  ? 

RANDOLPH. 

I  don't  know.     I  'm  an  American  boy ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  see  you  are  one  of  the  best. 

RANDOLPH. 

That  is  n't  what  my  mother  says,  you  can  bet  your  life  on 
that! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  your  mother  's  too  modest  I 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE  FOURTH.  31 

RANDOLPH,  astride  his  alpenstock,  looking  at  Winterbourne. 

She 's  sick  —  she  's  always  sick.     It 's  this  old  Europe ! 
Are  you  an  American  man  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  yes,  a  fellow- citizen.     (Aside.)     I  wonder  whether  I 
was  once  like  that ! 

RANDOLPH. 

American  men  are  the  best. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

So  they  often  say. 

RANDOLPH,  looking  off  to  the  left. 

Here  comes  my  sister.     She 's  an  American  girl. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

American  girls  are  the  best  girls. 

RANDOLPH. 

Oh,  my  sister  ain't  the  best.    She's  always  blowing  at  me ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  imagine  that 's  your  fault,  not  hers.     (Daisy  comes  in  from 

the  left  in  the  same  manner  as  on  her  previous  entrance,  and  on  reaching  the  mid 
dle  of  the  stage  stops  and  looks  at  Winterbourne  and  at  Randolph,  who  has 
converted  his  alpenstock  into  a  vaulting-pole,  and  is  springing  about  violently. 
Winterbourne  continues,  getting  up.)  By  Jove,  how  pretty  ! 

DAISY. 

Well,  Eandolph,  what  are  you  doing  ? 

RANDOLPH. 

I  'm  going  up  the  Alps.     This  is  the  way  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  's  the  way  they  come  down. 

RANDOLPH. 

He  's  all  right ;  he  's  an  American  man  ! 


32  DAISY  MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  been  in  a  manner  presented. 

(Approaches  Daisy,  throwing  away  his  cigarette.    Aloud,  with  great  civility.) 

This  little  boy  and  I  have  made  acquaintance. 

DAISY.       She  looks  at  him  a  moment  serenely,  and  then,  as  if  she  had  scarcely 
heard  him,  addresses  Randolph  again. 

I  should  like  to  know  where  you  got  that  pole ! 

RANDOLPH. 

The  same  way  as  you  get  your  things.     I  made  Eugenio     . 
buy  it. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

With  a  little  commission  ! 

DAISY. 

You  don't  mean  to  say  you  're  going  to  take  that  pole  to 
Italy? 

WINTERBOURNE,  same  manner. 

Are  you  thinking  of  going  to  Italy  ? 

DAISY,  looking  at  him,  and  then  looking  away. 

Yes,  sir. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Are  you  going  over  the  Simplon  ? 

DAISY. 

I  don't  know  —  I  suppose  it 's  some  mountain.   Randolph, 
what  mountain  are  we  going  over  ? 

RANDOLPH. 

Going  where  ? 

DAISY. 

To  Italy.  (Arranging  her  ribbons.)  Don't  you  know  about  Italy  ? 

RANDOLPH. 

No,  and  I  don't  want  to.     I  want  to  go  to  America ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  Italy  's  a  beautiful  place. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  FOURTH.  33 

RANDOLPH. 

Can  you  get  any  candy  there  ? 

DAISY. 

I  hope  not !  I  guess  you  have  had  candy  enough,  and 
mother  thinks  so  too. 

RANDOLPH,  still  jumping  about. 

I  have  n't  had  any  for  ever  so  long  — for  a  hundred 
weeks ! 

DAISY. 

Why,  Eandolph,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  tell (she 

pauses  a  moment.)      Well   I   don't   Care  !      (Looks  down  at  her  dress,  and 
continues  to  smooth  her  ribbons.) 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Does  she  accept  my  acquaintance  or  not  ?  It  's  rather 
sudden,  and  it  would  n't  do  at  Geneva.  But  why  else  did 
she  come  and  plant  herself  in  front  of  me?  She  is  the 
prettiest  of  the  pretty,  and,  I  declare,  I  '11  risk  it!  (After a 
moment,  aloud.)  We  are  very  fortunate  in  our  weather,  are  we 
not? 

DAISY. 

Well,  yes,  we  've  got  nice  weather. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

And  still  more  fortunate  in  our  scenery,    (indicating  the  view.) 

DAISY. 

Well,  yes,  the  scenery  's  lovely.  It  seems  very  moun 
tainous. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  Switzerland  is  mountainous,  you  know. 

DAISY. 

I  don't  know  much  about  it.  We  have  only  been  here  a 
week. 

3 


34  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE,  smiling. 

In  a  week  one  can  see  a  good  deal. 

DAISY. 
Well,  we  have  n't ;  we  have  only  walked  round  a  little. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

What  a  remarkable  type  !  (Aloud.)  You  must  be  rather 
tired  :  there  are  plenty  of  chairs.  (Draws  forward  two  of  them.) 

DAISY,  looking  at  them  a  moment. 

You  '11  be  very  clever  if  you  can  get  Kandolph  to  sit. 

WINTERBOURNE. 
I  don't  Care  a  fig  about  Randolph.      (Daisy  seats  herself.    Aside.) 

Oh,  Geneva,  Geneva! 

DAISY,  smoothing  her  ribbons. 

Well,  he  's  only  nine.     We  've  sat  round  a  good  deal,  too. 

WINTERBOURNE,  seated  beside  her. 

It  's  very  pleasant,  these  summer  days. 

DAISY. 

Well,  yes,  it 's  very  pleasant.  But  it  's  nicer  in  the 
evening. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  much  nicer  in  the  evening.  It  's  remarkably  nice  in 
the  evening.  (Aside.)  What  the  deuce  is  she  coining  to  ? 
(Aloud.)  When  you  get  to  Italy  you'll  find  the  evenings 
there!  .  .  . 

DAISY. 

I  've  heard  a  good  deal  about  the  evenings  there. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

In  Venice,  you  know  —  on  the  water  —  with  music! 

DAISY. 

I  don't  know  much  about  it.  (with  a  little  laugh.)  I  don't 
know  much  about  anything  ! 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE  FOURTH.  35 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Heaven   forgive   her,   she  's  charming !      I   must   really 

ascertain    ...    (To  Randolph,  who  has  continued  to  roam  about,  and  who 
comes  back  to  them  witli  his  alpenstock,  catching  him  and  drawing  him  between 

his  knees.)     Tell  me  your  name,  my  beautiful  boy  ! 

RANDOLPH,  struggling. 

Well,  you  drop  me  first ! 

DAISY. 

Why,  Eandolph,  I  should  think  you  'd  like  it ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Jupiter,  that  is  a  little  strong ! 

RANDOLPH,  liberating  himself. 

Try  it  yourself !    My  name  is  Randolph  C.  Miller. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Alarming  child  !     But  she  does  n't  seem  to  be  alarmed. 

RANDOLPH,  levelling  his  alpenstock  at  Daisy,  who  averts  it  with  her  hand. 

And  I  '11  tell  you  her  name. 

DAISY,  leaning  back  serenely. 

You  had  better  wait  till  you  are  asked. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  should  like  very  much  to  know  your  name. 

RANDOLPH. 

Her  name  is  Daisy  Miller. 

WINTERBOURNE,  expressively. 

How  very  interesting ! 

DAISY,  looking  at  him,  aside. 

Well,  he  's  a  queer  specimen  !     I  guess  he  's  laughing. 

RANDOLPH. 

That  is  n't  her  real  name  —  that  is  n't  her  name  on  her 
cards. 


36  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

DAISY. 

It 's  a  pity  that  you  have  n't  got  one  of  my  cards  ! 

RANDOLPH. 

Her  name  is  Annie  P.  Miller. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  I  see.     (Aside.)     That  does  n't  tell  me  much. 

DAISY,  indicating  Winterbourne. 

Ask  him  his  name. 

RANDOLPH. 

Ask  him  yourself !  My  father's  name  is  Ezra  B.  Miller. 
My  father  ain't  in  Europe.  My  father  's  in  a  better  place 
than  Europe. 

WINTERBOURNE,  uncertain. 

Ah,  you  have  had  the  misfortune  .  .  . 

RANDOLPH. 

My  father's  in  Schenectady.  He  does  a  big  business. 
He  's  rich,  you  can  bet  your  head  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Oh,  in  Schenectady  ?     I  thought  he  meant  in  Paradise  ! 

DAISY,  to  Randolph. 

Well,  you  need  n't  stick  your  pole  into  my  eye! 

RANDOLPH,  to  Winterbourne. 

Did  n't  I  tell  you  she  was  always  blowing  ?     (scampers  away 

and  disappears.) 

DAISY,  looking  after  him. 

He  does  n't  like  Europe ;  he  wants  to  go  back.  He  has  n't 
got  any  boys  here.  There  's  one  boy  here,  but  he  's  always 
going  round  with  a  teacher. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

And  your  brother  has  n't  any  teacher  ? 


ACT  FIRST :  SCENE  FOURTH.  37 

DAISY. 

Mother  thought  of  getting  him  one,  to  travel  round  with 
us.  But  Randolph  said  he  did  n't  want  a  teacher  when 
school  did  n't  keep ;  he  said  he  would  n't  have  lessons  when 
he  was  in  the  cars.  And  we  are  in  the  cars  most  of  the 
time.  There  was  an  English  lady  we  met  in  the  cars ;  her 
name  was  Miss  Featherstone —  perhaps  you  know  her. 
She  wanted  to  know  why  I  did  n't  give  Randolph  lessons  — 
give  him  instruction,  she  called  it.  I  guess  he  could  give 
me  more  instruction  than  I  could  give  him  !  He  's  very 
smart  —  he  's  only  nine. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

He  might  be  ninety  ! 

DAISY. 

Mother  's  going  to  get  a  teacher  for  him  as  soon  as  we 
get  to  Italy.  Can  you  get  good  teachers  in  Italy  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  it  's  the  land  of  art  —  of  science. 

DAISY. 

Well,  I  guess  he  does  n't  want  to  study  art ;  but  she  's 
going  to  find  some  school,  if  she  can.  (Pensively.)  Randolph 
ought  to  learn  some  more. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It  depends  upon  what  it  is  ! 

DAISY,  after  a  silence,  during  which  her  eyes  have  rested  upon  him. 

I  presume  you  are  a  German. 

WINTERBOURNE,  rising  quickly. 

Oh  dear,  no !  I  should  n't  have  ventured  to  speak  to 
you,  if  your  brother's  mention  of  my  nationality  had  not 
seemed  a  guarantee  .  .  . 


38  DAISY   MILLER:    A   COMEDY. 

DAISY,  getting  up. 

I  did  n't  suppose  my  brother  knew.  And  you  do  speak 
queerly,  any  way ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  'm  a  countryman  of  your  own.  But  I  should  tell  you 
that  I  have  spent  many  years  in  this  old  Europe,  as  your 
brother  says. 

DAISY. 

Do  you  live  here  —  in  the  mountains  ? 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Does  she  think  I  'm  a  goatherd  ?     (Aloud.)     No,  I  live 

just  now  at  Geneva. 

DAISY. 
Well,  you  are  peculiar,  anyhow  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

So  are  you,  if  you  come  to  that.     (Aloud.)     I  'm  afraid  I 

have  got  rather  Out  of  the  Way (pauses  for  a  moment.) 

DAISY. 

Out  of  the  way  of  what  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Of  making  myself  agreeable  to  the  young  ladies. 

DAISY. 

Have  n't  they  got  any  over  here  ?  I  must  say  I  have  n't 
seen  any  !  Of  course  I  have  n't  looked  out  much  for  them. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  have  looked  out  more  for  the  gentlemen  ! 

DAISY. 
Well,  at  Schenectady  I  did  n't  have  to  look  out. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Queer  place,  Schenectady. 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE  FIFTH.  39 

DAISY. 

I  had  so  much  society.     But  over  here  —   (she  hesitates.) 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Over  here  ? 

DAISY. 

Well,  you  're  the  first  gentleman  that  has  been  at  all 
attentive. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  you  see,  they  're  afraid  ! 

DAISY,  continuing. 

And  the  first  I  've  cared  anything  about  1 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

And  to  think  that,  at  the  beginning,  /  was  afraid.  (Aloud.) 
If  they  knew  how  kind  you  are  they  would  be  much  less 
timid. 

DAISY. 

I  hate  gentlemen  to  be  timid.     That 's  only  for  us. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

"  For  us  "  is  enchanting ! 


SCENE  FIFTH. 

DAISY,  WINTERBOURNE,  EUGENIC,  who  comes  in  hastily  from 
the  right,  wiping  his  forehead. 

EUGENIO. 

Mademoiselle,  I  have  been  looking  for  an  hour  for  Meester 
Randolph.     He  must  be  drowned  in  the  lake ! 
DAISY. 

I  guess  he  's  talking  to  that  waiter,     (serenely.)     He  likes 
to  talk  to  that  waiter. 


40  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

EUGENIO. 

He  should  n't  talk  to  waiters,  Mademoiselle. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Only  to  couriers  —  the  hierarchy  ! 

DAISY. 

I  want  to  introduce  you  to  a  friend  of  mine  —  Mr.  — 
Mr.  —    (TO  winterboume.)     I  declare,  I  don't  know  your  name. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

To  the  courier  ?     Excuse  me ! 

EUGENIO,  very  proper. 

I  have  the  honor  of  knowing  the  name  of  Monsieur. 

DAISY. 
Gracious,  you  know  everything ! 

EUGENIO,  aside. 

The  lover  of  the   Katkoff !     (Aloud.)     I  found  Meester 
Randolph,  but  he  escaped  again. 
DAISY. 

Well,  Eugenio,  you  're  a  splendid  courier,  but  you  can't 
make  much  impression  on  Randolph. 

EUGENIO. 

I  do  what  I  can,  Mademoiselle.     The  lunch  is  waiting, 
and  Madame  is  at  the  table.     If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will 

give  up  the  chase.      (Glancing  at  Winterbourne,  aside.)      Is  he  leaving 

the  Katkoff  for  the  child  ? 

DAISY. 

You  need  n't  be  so  grand,  need  he  ?    (TO  winterboume.)    It 's 
not  the  first  time  you  've  been  introduced  to  a  courier  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  stiffly. 

The  very  first. 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE  FI 


EUGENIO,  aside. 

He  has  never  kept  one.  (Aloud.)  If  Mademoiselle  will 
pass  into  the  hotel!  (Aside again.)  The  child  is  not  for 
every  one. 

DAISY. 

Tell  mother  to  begin  — that  I  'm  talking  to  a  gentleman. 

WINTERBOURNE,  protesting. 

I  shall  be  very  sorry  to  incommode  your  mother. 

DAISY,  smiling. 

I  like  the  way  you  say  such  things.  (Familiarly.)  What 
are  you  going  to  do  all  day  ? 

WINTERBOURNE,  embarrassed. 

I  hardly  know.     I  've  only  just  arrived. 

DAISY. 

I  will  come  out  after  lunch. 

WINTERBOURNE,  with  extreme  respect. 

I  shall  be  here,  to  take  your  commands. 

DAISY. 

Well,  you  do  say  them  !     About  two  o'clock. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  shall  not  go  far. 

DAISY,  going. 

And  I  shall  learn  your  name  from  Eugenio. 

EUGENIO,  aside. 

And  something  else  as  well !     He  is  not  for  the  child. 

(Follows  Daisy  into  the  hotel.) 


42  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

SCENE   SIXTH. 

WINTERBOURNE  ALONE,  THEN  MADAME  DE  KATKOFF. 
WINTEllBOURNE. 

She  's  simply  amazing  !  I  have  never  seen  them  like 
that.  I  have  seen  them  worse  —  oh,  yes  !  —  and  I  have 
seen  them  better ;  but  I  've  never  encountered  that  partic 
ular  shade  —  that  familiarity,  that  facility,  that  fragility! 
She  's  too  audacious  to  be  innocent,  and  too  candid  to  be  — 
the  other  thing.  But  her  candor  itself  is  a  queer  affair. 
Coming  up  to  me  and  proposing  acquaintance,  and  letting 
her  eyes  rest  on  mine !  Planting  herself  there  like  a  flower 
to  be  gathered !  Introducing  me  to  her  courier,  and  offer 
ing  me  a  rendezvous  at  the  end  of  twenty  minutes  !  Are 
they  all  like  that,  the  little  American  girls  ?  It  's  time  I 
should  go  back  and  see.  (seeing  Madame  de  Katkoff.)  But  I  can 
hardly  go  while  I  have  this  reason  for  staying  ! 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF.      She  comes  out  of  the  hotel  j  she  has  still  her 
book  under  her  arm. 

They  brought  me  your  card,  but  I  thought  it  better  I 
should  come  and  see  you  here. 

WINTERBOUUNE. 

I  know  why  you  do  that :  you  think  it 's  less  encouraging 
than  to  receive  me  in-doors. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  smiling. 

Oh,  if  I  could  discourage  you  a  little  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It  's  not  for  want  of  trying.     I  bore  you  so  much  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

No,  you  don't  bore  me,  but  you  distress  me.  I  give  you 
so  little. 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE   SIXTH.  43 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That 's  for  me  to  measure.     I  'm  content  for  the  present. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

If  you  had  been  content,  you  would  n't  have  followed  me 
to  this  place. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  did  n't  follow  you,  and,  to  speak  perfectly  frankly,  it  's 
not  for  you  I  came. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

Is  it  for  that  young  lady  I  just  saw  from  my  window  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  never  heard  of  that  young  lady  before.  I  came  for  an 
aunt  of  mine,  who  is  staying  here. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  smiling  again. 

Ah,  if  your  family  could  only  take  an  interest  in  you ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Don't  count  on  them  too  much.  I  have  n't  seen  my 
aunt  yet. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  have  asked  first  for  me  ?  You  see,  then,  it  was  for 
me  you  came. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  wish  I  could  believe  it  pleased  you  a  little  to  think  so. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

It  does  please  me —  a  little ;  I  like  you  very  much. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  always  say  that,  when  you  are  about  to  make  some 
particularly  disagreeable  request.  You  like  me,  but  you 
dislike  my  society.  On  that  principle,  I  wish  you  hated  me  ! 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

I  may  come  to  it  yet. 


44  DAISY   MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Before  that,  then,  won't  you  sit  down  ?     (indicating  &  bench.) 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Thank  you  ;  I  'm  not  tired. 

•WINTERBOURNE. 

That  would  be  too  encouraging !  I  went  to  the  villa  a 
week  ago.  You  had  already  left  it. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  went  first  to  Lausanne.  If  I  had  remained  there,  you 
would  n't  have  found  me. 

WINTEIIBOURNE. 

I  'm  delighted  you  did  n't  remain.  But  I  'm  sorry  you 
are  altering  your  house. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Only  two  rooms.  That  's  why  I  came  away :  the  work 
men  made  too  much  noise. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  hope  they  are  not  the  rooms  I  know  —  in  which  the 
happiest  hours  of  my  life  have  been  passed  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  see  why  you  wished  me  to  sit  down.  You  want  to 
begin  a  siege. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

No,  I  was  only  going  to  say  that  I  shall  always  see  with 
particular  vividness  your  little  blue  parlor. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

They  are  going  to  change  it  to  red.  (Aside.)  Perhaps 
that  will  cure  him  !  (Aloud.)  Apropos  of  your  family,  have 
they  come  to  Europe  to  bring  you  home  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

As  I  tell  you,  I  have  n't  yet  ascertained  their  intentions. 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE   SIXTH.  45 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF.    v 

I  take  a  great  interest  in  them.     I  feel  a  little  responsible 
for  you. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  don't  care  a  straw  for  me  I 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Let  me  give  you  a  proof.     I  think  it  would  conduce  to 
your  happiness  to  return  for  a  while  to  America. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

To  my  happiness  ?   You  are  confounding  it  with  your  own. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It  is  true  that  the  two  things  are  rather  distinct.     But 
you  have  been  in  Europe  for  years  —  for  years  and  years. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  I  have  been  here  too  long.     I  know  that. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  ought  to  go  over  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  your 
compatriots. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Going  over  is  n't  necessary.     I  can  do  it  here. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  ought  at  least  to  see  their  institutions  —  their  scenery. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Don't  talk  about  scenery,  on  the  Lake  of  Geneva  \     As 
for  American  institutions,  I  can  see  them  in  their  fruits. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

In  their  fruits  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Little  nectarines  and  plums.     A  very  pretty  bloom,  but 
decidedly  crude.     What  book  are  you  reading  ? 


46  DAISY   MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  don't  know  what.     The  last  French  novel. 

WINTEBBOUBNE. 

Are  you  going  to  remain  in  the  garden  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  looks  at  him  a  moment. 

I  see  what  you  are  coming  to  :  you  wish  to  offer  to  read 
to  me. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

As  I  did  in  the  little  blue  parlor  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  read  very  well ;  but  we  are  not  there  now. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

A  quiet  corner,  under  the  trees,  will  do  as  well* 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

We  neither  of  us  have  the  time.     I  recommend  you  to 
your  aunt.     She  will  be  sure  to  take  you  in  hand. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  have  an  idea  I  shan't  fall  in  love  with  my  aunt. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  am  sorry  for  her.     I  should  like  you  as  a  nephew. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  should  like  you  as  a  serious  woman  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  am  intensely  serious.     Perhaps  you  will  believe  it  when 
I  tell  you  that  I  leave  this  place  to-day. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  don't  call  that  serious :  I  call  it  cruel. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

At  all  events,  it  's  deliberate.     Vevey  is  too  hot ;  I  shall 
go  higher  up  into  the  mountains. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE   SIXTH.  47 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  knew  it  was  hot  when  you  came. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  after  a  pause,  with  significance. 

Yes,  but  it 's  hotter  than  I  supposed. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  don't  like  meeting  old  friends. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

No,  nor  old  enemies  !  (Aloud.)  I  like  old  friends  in  the 
autumn  —  the  melancholy  season  !  I  shall  count  on  seeing 
you  then. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

And  not  before,  of  course.  Say  at  once  you  wish  to  cut 
me. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  smiling. 

Very  good :  I  wish  to  cut  you  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  give  a  charm  even  to  that !  Where  shall  you  be  in 
the  autumn  ? 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

I  shall  be  at  the  villa  —  if  the  little  blue  parlor  is  altered  ! 
In  the  winter  I  shall  go  to  Rome. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

A  happy  journey,  then  !     I  shall  go  to  America. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

That  's  capital.     Let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Yes,  that  's  the  finishing  touch ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

The  little  nectarines  and  plums  :  don't  mind  if  they  are  a 
trifle  crude  !  Pick  out  a  fair  one,  a  sweet  one  — 


48  DAISY   MILLER:   A    COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE,  stopping  her  with  a  gesture. 

Don't,  don't !     I  shall  see  you  before  you  go. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

Not  if  I  can  help  it!     (Aloud.)     I  think  this  must  be  your 

family.       (Goes  into  the  hotel.) 


SCENE  SEVENTH. 

WINTERBOURNE,  MRS.  COSTELLO,  MISS  DURANT,  REVERDY, 
who  come  out  of  the  hotel  as  Madame  de  Katkoff  enters  it. 

REVERDY. 

We  are  always  meeting  the  Russian  princess ! 

MISS    DURANT. 

If  you  call  that  meeting  her,  when  she  never  looks  at  you  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

She  does  n't  look  at  you,  but  she  sees  you.     Bless  my 
soul,  if  here  is  n't  Frederick ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

My  dear  aunt,  I  was  only  waiting  till  you  had  breakfasted. 

MISS    DURANT,  aside. 

He  was  talking  with  the  Russian  princess  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  might  have  sat  down  with  us  :  we  waited  an  hour. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  breakfasted  in  my  room.     I  was  obliged  on  my  arrival 
to  jump  into  a  bath. 

MISS   DURANT,  aside. 

He  's  very  cold  —  he  's  very  cold  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

They  told  me  you  were  at  table,  and  I  just  sat  down  here. 


ACT  FIRST:    SCENE   SEVENTH.  49 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  were  in  no  hurry  to  embrace  me  —  after  ten  years  ? 

WINTERED URNE. 

It  was  just  because  of  those  ten  years ;  they  seemed  to 
make  you  so  venerable  that  I  was  pausing  —  as  at  the 
entrance  of  a  shrine !  Besides,  I  knew  you  had  charming 
company. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  shall  discover  how  charming.  This  is  Alice  Durant, 
who  is  almost  our  cousin. 

WINTERBOURNE,  smiling. 

Almost  ?     I  wish  it  were  quite. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

And  that  is  Mr.  Charles  Keverdy. 

REVERDY. 

Who  is  almost  their  courier  !  - — 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  must  relieve  you  of  your  duties. 

REVERDY,  aside. 

Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you  !     By  George,  if  I  'm  relieved 

I  '11  look   OUt   for   Miss    Miller.       (Looks  about  him,  and  finally  steals 
away.) 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

My  dear  Frederick,  in  all  this  time  you  have  not  changed 
for  the  worse. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

How  can  you  tell  that  —  in  three  minutes  ? 

MISS    DURANT,  aside. 

Decidedly  good-looking,  but  fearfully  distant ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Ob,  if  you  are  not  agreeable,  we  shall  be  particularly  dis 
appointed.  We  count  on  you  immensely. 

4 


50  DAISY  MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  shall  do  my  best,  dear  aunt. 

MRS.    COSLELLO. 

Especially  for  our  sweet  Alice. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Oh,  Cousin  Louisa,  how  can  you  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  thought  of  you  when  I  invited  her  to  come  to  Europe. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It  was  a  very  happy  thought.     I  don't  mean  thinking  of 
me,  but  inviting  Miss  Durant. 

MISS   DURANT,  to  Winterbourne. 

I  can't  say  it  was  of  you  I  thought  when  I  accepted. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  should  never  natter  myself :  there  are  too  many  other 
objects  of  interest. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

That  's  precisely  what  we  have  been  talking  of.  We  are 
surrounded  by  objects  of  interest,  and  we  depend  upon  you 
to  be  our  guide. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

My  dear  aunt,  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  know  much  about  them. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  '11  have  a  motive  to-day  for  learning.  I  have  an  idea 
that  you  have  always  wanted  a  motive.  In  that  stupid  old 
Geneva  there  can't  be  many. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  if  there  's  one,  it  's  enough  ! 

MISS    DURANT,  aside. 

If  there  's  one  ?  He  's  in  love  with  some  dreadful  Gene- 
vese ! 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE  SEVENTH.  51 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

My  young  companion  has  a  great  desire  to  ascend  a 
mountain  —  to  examine  a  glacier. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Cousin  Louisa,  you  make  me  out  too  bold  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

She  's  not  bold,  then,  this  one,  like  the  other  ?  I  think  I 
prefer  the  other.  (Aloud.)  You  should  go  to  Zermatt.  You  're 
in  the  midst  of  the  glaciers  there. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

We  shall  be  delighted  to  go  —  under  your  escort.  Mr. 
Reverdy  will  look  after  me  ! 

MISS    DURANT,  glancing  about  for  him. 

When  he  has  done  with  Miss  Daisy  Miller  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  smiling. 

Even  among  the  glaciers,  I  natter  myself  I  can  take  care 
of  both  of  you. 

MISS    DURANT. 

It  will  be  all  the  easier,  as  I  never  leave  your  aunt. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

She  does  n't  rush  about  the  world  alone,  like  so  many 
American  girls.  She  has  been  brought  up  like  the  young 
ladies  in  Geneva.  Her  education  was  surrounded  with  every 
precaution. 

WINTERBOURNE,  smiling. 

With  too  many,  perhaps  !  The  best  education  is  seeing 
the  world  a  little. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

That  's  precisely  what  I  wish  her  to  do.  When  we  have 
finished  Zermatt,  we  wish  to  come  back  to  Interlaken,  and 
from  Interlaken  you  shall  take  us  to  Lucerne. 


52  DAISY  MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE,  gravely. 

Perhaps  you  '11  draw  up  a  little  list. 

MISS    DURANT,  aside. 

Perfectly  polite,  but  no  enthusiasm  !     (Aloud.)     I  'm  afraid 
Mr.  Wiuterbourne  is  n't  at  liberty ;  he  has  other  friends. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

He  has  n't  another  aunt,  I  imagine  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Fortunately  not !     (Aloud  to  Miss  Durant.)     It  's  very  charm 
ing  of  you  to  think  of  that. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Possibly  we  are  indiscreet,  as  we  just  saw  you  talking  to 
a  lady. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Madame  de  Katkoff?     She  leaves  this  place  to-day. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  don't  mean  to  follow  her,  I  hope  ?    (Aside.)    It  's  best 
to  be  firm  with  him  at  the  start. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

My  dear  aunt,  I  don't  follow  every  woman  I  speak  to. 

MISS   DURANT,  aside. 

Ah,  that 's  meant  for  us  !     Mr.  Reverdy  is  never  so  rude. 
I  would  thank  him  to  come  back. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

On  the  1st  of  October,  you  know,  you  shall  take  us  to 
Italy. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah  !  every  one  is  going  to  Italy. 

MISS   DURANT. 

Every  one?    Madame  de  Katkoff,  perhaps. 


ACT   FIRST:   SCENE  SEVENTH.  53 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Madame  de  Katkoff,  precisely;    and  Mr.  Randolph   C. 
Miller  and  his  sister  Daisy. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Bless  my  soul !     What  do  you  know  about  that  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  know  what  they  have  told  me. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Mercy  on  us  !     What  opportunity  ?  — 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Just  now,  while  I  had  my  coffee. 

MISS     DURANT. 

As  I  say,  Mr.  Winterbourne  has  a  great  many  friends. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

He  only  asks  to  add  you  to  the  number. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Side  by  side  with  Miss  Daisy  Miller  ?     Thank  you  very 
much. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Come,  my  dear  Frederick,  that  girl  is  not  your  friend. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Upon  my  word,  I  don't  know  what  she  is,  and  I  should 
be  very  glad  if  you  could  tell  me. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

That 's  very  easily  done  :  she  's  a  little  American  flirt. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah  !  she  's  a  little  American  flirt ! 

MISS    DUBANT. 

She  's  a  vulgar  little  chatterbox. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah !  she  's  a  vulgar  little  chatterbox  ! 


54  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

She  's  in  no  sort  of  society. 

WINTEHBOUKNE. 

.    All !  she  's  in  no  sort  of  society  ! 

MISS    DURANT. 

You  would  never  know  her  in  America. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  I  should  never  know  her  in  America,  it  seems  to  me  a 
reason  for  seizing  the  opportunity  here. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

The  opportunity  appears  to  have  come  to  you  very  easily. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  confess  it  did,  rather.     We  fell  into  conversation  while 
I  sat  there  on  the  bench. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Perhaps  she  sat  down  beside  you  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  won't  deny  that  she  did  ;  she  is  wonderfully  charming. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Oh  !  if  that  's  all  that 's  necessary  to  be  charming  — 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  must  give  up  the  attempt  —  must  n't  you,  my  dear  ? 
My  poor  Frederick,  this  is  very  dreadful ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

So  it  seems  ;  but  T  don't  understand. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

What  should  you  say  at  Geneva  of  a  young  woman  who 
made  such  advances  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Such  advances  ?     I  don't  know  that  they  were  advances. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  SEVENTH.  55 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Ah  !  if  you  wish  to  wait  till  she  invites  you  to  her  room ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  laughing. 

I  shall  not  have  to  wait  very  long. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Had  n't  I  better  leave  you  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Poor  child,  I  understand  that  you  shrink  .  .  .  But  we 
must  make  it  clear. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Oh,  yes,  we  must  make  it  clear ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Do  make  it  clear ;  I  want  it  to  be  clear. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Ask  yourself,  then,  what  they  would  say  at  Geneva. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

They  would  say  she  was  rather  far  gone.  But  we  are  not 
at  Geneva. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

We  are  only  a  few  miles  off.  Miss  Daisy  Miller  is  very 
far  gone  indeed. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah  !  what  a  pity  !     But  I  thought,  now,  in  New  York  — 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  sternly. 

Frederick,  don't  lift  your  hand  against  your  mother- 
country  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Never  in  the  world.  I  only  repeat  what  I  hear  —  that 
over  there  all  this  sort  of  thing  —  the  manners  of  young  per 
sons,  the  standard  of  propriety  —  is  quite  different. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  only  know  how  /was  brought  up  ! 


56  DAISY  MILLER:    A   COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE,  slightly  ironical. 

Ah,  that  settles  it. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

We  must  take  him  back  with  us,  to  see. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Not  to  see,  you  mean  —  not  to  see  my  dear  little  friend ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

In  the  best  society  —  never. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  hang  the  best  society,  then  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  with  majesty. 

I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  you  are  the  best  society  !  And  the  little  girl  with  the 
naughty  brother  is  the  worst  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

The  worst  /  have  ever  seen. 

WINTERBOURNE,  rather  gravely,  laying  his  hand  on  her  arm. 

My  dear  aunt,  the  best,  then,  ought  to  be  awfully  good ! 

MISS    DURANT,  aside. 

He  means  that  for  an  epigram  !  I  '11  make  him  go  and 
look  for  Mr.  Eeverdy.  (Aloud.)  I  wonder  what  has  become 
of  Mr.  Reverdy. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  sharply. 

Never  mind  Mr.  Eeverdy;  I  '11  look  after  him.  (TO Winter, 
bourne.)  If  you  should  see  a  little  more  of  those  vulgar 
people,  you  would  find  that  they  don't  stand  the  test. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  I  shall  see  a  little  more  of  them  —  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  (Looking  at  his  watch.)  The  young  lady  is  coming  back 
at  two  o'clock. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  SEVENTH.  57 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Gracious  goodness  !     Have  you  made  an  appointment  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  don't  know  whether  it 's  an  appointment,  but  she  said 
she  would  come  back  again. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  to  Miss  Durant. 

My  precious  darling,  we  must  go  in.     We  can  hardly  be 
expected  to  assist  at  such  a  scene. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

My  dear  aunt,  there  is  plenty  of  time  yet. 

MISS     DURANT. 

Ah,  no  ;  she  '11  be  before  !     Would  you  kindly  look  for 
Mr.  Reverdy? 

WINTERBOURNE,  extremely  polite. 

With  the  greatest  of  pleasure. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Later  in  the  afternoon,  if  this  extraordinary  interview  is 
over,  we  should  like  you  to  go  with  us  into  the  town. 

WINTERBOURNE,  in  the  same  tone. 

With  the  greatest  of  pleasure.     (Aside.)     They  hate  her 
ferociously,  and  it  makes  me  feel  sorry  for  her. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  to  Miss  Durant. 

Quickly,  my  dear  !     We  must  get  out  of  the  way. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Let  me  at  least  see  you  into  the  house.     (Accompanies  them 

into  the  hotel.) 


58  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

SCENE  EIGHTH. 

CHARLES  REVERDY,  RANDOLPH,  THEN  DAISY. 
REVERB Y,  coming  in  from  behind  with  the  child  on  his  back. 

The  horrid  little  wretch  !  I  'm  like  Sinbad  the  Sailor 
with  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea  1  Don't  you  think  you  've 
had  about  enough  ? 

RANDOLPH,  snapping  a  little  whip. 

Oh,  no ;  I  have  n't  had  enough.  I  '11  teU  you  when  I  've 
had  enough. 

REVERDY. 

Oh,  come !  I  've  galloped  twenty  miles ;  I  've  been 
through  all  my  paces.  You  must  sit  still  in  the  saddle  a 

while.  (Pauses  in  front  while  Randolph  bounces  up  and  down.)  I  'm  play 
ing  horse  with  the  brother  to  be  agreeable  to  the  sister ;  but 
he  's  riding  me  to  death  ! 

RANDOLPH,  still  brandishing;  his  whip. 

I  want  you  to  prance  about  and  to  kick.  Get  up,  sir ; 
get  up ! 

REVERDY,  aside. 

It  's  the  devil's  own  game  —  here  at  the  door  of  the 
hotel !  (Aloud.)  I  '11  prance  about  so  that  you  '11  come  off. 

RANDOLPH,  firm  iii  his  place. 

If  you  throw  me  off,  I  '11  give  you  a  licking !  Get  up, 
sir,  get  up ! 

REVERDY,  aside. 

Damn  the  little  demon  !    It  was  a  happy  thought  of  mine. 

RANDOLPH,  kicking. 

These  are  my  spurs.  I  '11  drive  in  my  spurs  !  Get  up, 
sir,  get  up  ! 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  EIGHTH.  59 

REVERDY. 

Oh  misery,  here  goes  !  (He  begins  to  imitate  the  curvetting  of  a 
horse,  in  the  hope  of  throwing  Randolph  off,  but,  seeing  Daisy  issue  from  the  hotel, 
suddenly  stops.) 

DAISY,  staring. 

Well,  Eandolph,  what  are  you  doing  up  there  ? 

RANDOLPH. 

I  'm  riding  on  a  mule  ! 

REVERDY,  with  a  groan. 

A  mule  ?  Not  even  the  nobler  animal !  My  dear  young 
lady,  could  n't  you  persuade  him  to  dismount  ? 

DAISY,  laughing. 

You  look  so  funny  when  you  say  that !  I  'm  sure  I 
never  persuaded  Eandolph. 

RANDOLPH. 

He  said  if  I  would  tell  him  where  you  were,  he  would 
give  me  a  ride. 

REVERDY. 

And  then,  when  he  was  up,  he  refused  to  tell  me  ! 

RANDOLPH. 

I  told  you  mother  would  n't  like  it.  She  wants  Daisy 
and  me  to  be  proper. 

REVERDY,  aside. 

"  Me  to  be  proper !  "    He  's  really  sublime,  the  little  fiend ! 

DAISY. 

Well,  she  does  want  you  to  be  proper.  She  's  waiting 
for  you  at  lunch. 

RANDOLPH. 

I  don't  want  any  lunch  :  there  's  nothing  fit  to  eat. 

DAISY. 
Well,  I  guess  there  is,  if  you  '11  go  and  see. 


60  DAISY  MILLER:   A    COMEDY. 

REVERDY,  aside. 

It  's   uncommonly   nice   for   me,  while   they   argue   the 
question ! 

DAISY. 

There  's  a  man  with  candy  in  the  hall ;  that 's  where 
mother  wants  you  to  be  proper. 

RANDOLPH,  jumping  down. 

A  man  with  candy.     Oh,  blazes  ! 

REVERDY,  aside. 

Adorable  creature  !     She  has  broken  the  spell. 

RANDOLPH,  scampering  into  the  hotel. 

I  say,  old  mule,  you  can  go  to  grass  ! 

REVERDY. 

Delightful  little  nature,  your  brother. 

DAISY. 

Well,  he  used  to  have  a  pony  at  home.    I  guess  he  misses 
that  pony.     Is  it  true  that  you  asked  him  that  ? 

REVERDY. 

To  tell  me  where  you  were  ?     I  confess  I  wanted  very 
much  to  know. 

DAISY. 

Well,  Kandolph  could  n't  tell  you.     I  was  having  lunch 
with  mother.     I  thought  you  were  with  those  ladies. 

REVERDY. 

Whom  you  saw  me  with  this  morning  ?    Oh,  no ;  they  've 
got  another  cavalier,  just  arrived,  on  purpose. 

DAISY,  attentive. 

Another  cavalier  —  just   arrived?      Do   you   mean   that 
gentleman  that  speaks  so  beautifully  ? 

REVERDY. 

A  dozen  languages  ?     His  English  is  n't  bad  —  compared 
with  my  French ! 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE 


DAISY,  thoughtful. 

Well,  he  looks  like  a  cavalier.     Did  he  come  on  purpose 
for  them  ? 

REVERDY,  aside. 

What  does  she  know  about  him  ?      (Aloud.)      Oh,  yes ; 
they  sent  for  him  to  Geneva. 

DAISY. 
To  Geneva  ?     That  's  the  one  ! 

REVERDY. 

You  see,  they  want  him  to  "be  always  with  them ;  he  's 
for  their  own  particular  consumption. 

DAISY,  disappointed,  but  very  simply. 

Ah,  then  he  won't  come  out  at  two  o'clock ! 

REVERDY. 

I  'm  sure  I  don't  know.    (The  bell  of  the  hotel  strikes  two.)    There 

it  1S.      YOU  '11  have   a   chance  to  See.       (Winterbourne,  on  the  stroke 
of  the  hour,  comes  out  of  the  hotel.) 

DAISY,  joyfully. 

Here  he  comes  !      He  's  too  sweet ! 

REVERDY,  aside. 

Oh,  I  say,  she  had  made  an  appointment  with  him  while 
I  was  doing  the  mule  ! 


SCENE  NINTH. 

REVERDY,  FOB  A  MOMENT  ;  DAISY,  WINTERBOURNE. 
WINTERBOURNE,  to  Reverdy. 

I  am  glad  to  find  you :  Miss  Durant  has  a  particular 
desire  to  see  you. 

REVERDY. 

It 's  very  good  of  you  to  be  her  messenger.    (Aside.)   That 's 
what  he  calls  relieving  me  ! 


62  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  will  find  those  ladies  in  their  own  sitting-room,  on 
the  second  floor. 

REVERDY. 

Oh,  I  know  where  it  is.     (TO  Daisy.)     I  shall  be  back  in 
five  minutes. 

DAISY. 

I  'm  sure  you  need  n't  hurry. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  have  an  idea  they  have  a  good  deal  to  say  to  you. 

REVERDY. 

I  hope  it  is  n't  to  complain  of  you !     (Goes  into  the  hotel.) 

DAISY,  looking  at  Winterbourne  a  moment. 

I  was  afraid  you  would  n't  come. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

She  has  a  way  of  looking  at  you!      (Aloud.)      I  don't 
know  what  can  have  given  you  such  an  impression. 
DAISY. 

Well,  you  know,  half  the  time  they  don't  —  the  gentle 
men. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

^f  That  's  in  America,  perhaps.     But  over  here  they  always 
/  come. 

/  DAISY,  simply. 

Well,  I  have  n't  had  much  experience  over  here. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  it.     It  was  very  good  of  your  mother 
to  let  you  leave  her  again. 

DAISY,  surprised. 

Oh,  mother  does  n't  care  ;  she  has  got  Eugenio. 

WINTERBOURNE,  startled. 

Surely,  not  to  sit  with  her? 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  NINTH.  63 

DAISY. 

Well,  he  does  n't  sit  with,  her  always,  because  he  likes  to 
go  out. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  he  likes  to  go  out ! 

DAISY. 

He  's  got  a  great  many  friends,  Eugenio ;  he  's  awfully 
popular.  And  then,  you  know,  poor  mother  is  n't  very 
amusing. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  she  is  n't  very  amusing  !     (Aside.)     Aunt  Louisa  was 
right :  it  is  n't  the  best  society  ! 
DAISY. 

But  Eugenio  stays  with  her  all  he  can  :  he  says  he  did  n't 
expect  that  so  much  when  he  came. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  should  think  not !  I  hope  at  least  that  it  is  n't  a 
monopoly,  and  that  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  making  your 
mother's  acquaintance. 

DAISY. 

Well,  you  do  speak  beautifully  !     I  told  Mr.  Reverdy. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It  was  very  good  of  you  to  mention  it.  One  speaks  as 
one  can. 

DAISY. 

Mother  's  awfully  timid,  or  else  I  'd  introduce  you.  She 
always  makes  a  fuss  if  I  introduce  a  gentleman.  But  I  do 
introduce  them  —  the  ones  I  like. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  it 's  a  sign  of  your  liking,  I  hope  you  will  introduce  me. 
But  you  must  know  my  name,  which  you  did  n't  a  while 
ago. 


64  DAISY   MILLER:   A    COMEDY. 

DAISY. 

Oh,  Eugenic  has  told  me  your  name,  and  I  think  it  's 
very  pretty.     And  he  has  told  me  something  else. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  can't  imagine  what  he  should  tell  you  about  me. 

DAISY. 

About  you  and  some  one  else  —  that  Eussian  lady  who  is 
leaving  the  hotel. 

WINTERBOURNE,  quickly. 

Who  is  leaving  the  hotel !     How  does  he  know  that  ? 

DAISY,  with  a  little  laugh. 

You  see  it  is  true :  you  are  very  fond  of  that  Russian 
lady! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

She  is  leaving  the  hotel  —  but  not  till  six  o'clock.     (Aloud.) 
I  have  n't  known  you  very  long,  but  I  should  like  to  give 
you  a  piece  of  advice.     Don't  gossip  with  your  courier  ! 
DAISY. 

I  see  you  're  off ended  —  and  it  proves  Eugenio  was  right. 
He  said  it  was  a  secret  —  and  you  don't  like  me  to  know  it. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  may  know  everything,  my  dear  young  lady;  only 
don't  get  your  information  from  a  servant. 

DAISY. 

Do  you  call  Eugenio  a  servant  ?  He  '11  be  amused  if  I 
tell  him  that! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

He  won't  be  amused  — he  will  be  furious  ;  but  the  par 
ticular  emotion  does  n't  matter.  It 's  very  good  of  you  to 
take  such  an  interest. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  NINTH.         65 

DAISY. 

Oh,  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  if  I  did  n't  take  some 
interest !  You  do  care  for  her,  then  ? 

WINTERBOURNE,  a  little  annoyed. 

For  the  Russian  lady?  Oh,  yes,  we  are  old  friends. 
(Aside.)  My  aunt 's  right :  they  don't  stand  the  test ! 

DAISY. 
I  'm  very  glad  she  is  going,  then.     But  the  others  mean 

to  stay  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

The  others  ?     What  others  ? 

DAISY. 

The  two  that  Mr.  Reverdy  told  me  about,  and  to  whom 
he  's  so  very  devoted. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It 's  my  aunt  and  a  friend  of  hers ;  but  you  need  n't  mind 
them. 

DAISY. 
For  all  they  mind  me  !     But  they  look  very  stylish. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  yes,  they  are  very  stylish;  you  can  bet  your  life  on 
that,  as  your  brother  says  ! 

DAISY,  looking  at  him  a  moment. 

Did  you  come  for  them,  or  for  the  Russian  lady  ? 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside,  more  annoyed. 

Ah,  too  many  questions !  (Aloud.)  I  came  for  none  of 
them ;  I  came  for  myself. 

DAISY,  serenely. 

Yes,  that 's  the  impression  you  give  me :  you  think  a 
great  deal  of  yourself  !  But  I  should  like  to  know  your 
aunt,  all  the  same.  She  has  her  hair  done  like  an  old 

5 


66  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

picture,  and  she  holds  herself  so  very  well ;  she  speaks  to  no 
one,  and  she  dines  in  private.  That 's  the  way  I  should  like 
to  be  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  you  would  make  a  bad  exchange.     My  aunt  is  liable 

to  fearful  headaches. 

DAISY. 

I  think  she  is  very  elegant  —  headaches  and  all !  I  want 
very  much  to  know  her. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Goodness,  what  a  happy  thought !    (Aloud.)    She  would  be 
enchanted ;  only  the  state  of  her  health  .  .  . 
DAISY. 

Oh,  yes,  she  has  an  excuse  ;  that 's  a  part  of  the  elegance ! 
I  should  like  to  have  an  excuse.  Any  one  can  see  your  aunt 
would  have  one. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  she  has  five  hundred  ! 

DAISY. 

Well,  we  have  n't  any,  mother  and  I.  I  like  a  lady  to  be 
exclusive.  I  'm  dying  to  be  exclusive  myself. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Be  just  as  you  are.  You  would  n't  be  half  so  charming  if 
you  were  different.  (Aside.)  It 's  odd  how  true  that  is,  with 

all  her  faults ! 

DAISY. 

You  don't  think  me  charming  :  you  only  think  me  queer. 
I  can  see  that  by  your  manner.  I  should  like  to  know  your 
aunt,  any  way. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It 's  very  good  of  you,  I  'm  sure ;  but  I  am  afraid  those 
headaches  will  interfere. 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  NINTH.  67 

DAISY. 

I  suppose  she  does  n't  have  a  headache  every  day,  does 
she? 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

What  the  deuce  is  a  man  to  say  ?  (Aloud.)  She  assures 
me  she  does. 

DAISY,  turns  away  a  moment,  walks  to  the  parapet,  and  stands  there  thoughtful. 
She    does  n't    Want    to    know    me  !       (Looking  at  Winterbourne.) 

Why  don't  you  say  so  ?     You  need  n't  be  afraid ;  I  'm  not 

afraid.       (Suddenly,  with  a  little  break  in  her  voice.)       Gracious,    she  is 

exclusive  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

So  much  the  worse  for  her  ! 

DAISY. 

You  see,  you  5ve  got  to  own  to  it !  Well,  I  don't  care. 
I  mean  to  be  like  that  —  when  I  'm  old. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  can't  think  you  '11  ever  be  old. 
DAISY. 

Oh,  you  horrid  thing  !  As  if  I  were  going  to  perish  in 
my  flower ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  should  be  very  sorry  if  I  thought  that.  Eut  you  will 
never  have  any  quarrel  with  Time  :  he  '11  touch  you  very 
gently. 

DAISY,  at  the  parapet,  looking  over  the  lake. 

I  hope  I  shall  never  have  any  quarrel  with  any  one.  I  'm 
very  good-natured. 

WINTERBOURNE,  laughing. 

You  certainly  disarm  criticism  —  oh,  completely  ! 

DAISY. 

Well,  I  don't  care.  Have  you  ever  been  to  that  old  cas 
tle  ?  (Pointing  to  Chillon,  in  the  distance.) 


68  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

The  Castle  of  Chillon  ?     Yes,  in  former  days,  more  than 
once.     I  suppose  you  have  been  there,  too. 
DAISY. 

Oh,  no,  we  have  n't  been  there.  I  want  to  go  there  aw 
fully.  Of  course,  I  mean  to  go  there.  I  would  n't  go  away 
from  here  without  having  seen  that  old  castle  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It 's  a  very  pretty  excursion,  and  very  easy  to  make.  You 
can  drive,  you  know,  or  you  can  take  the  little  steamer. 

DAISY. 

Well,  we  were  going  last  week,  but  mother  gave  out.  She 
suffers  terribly  from  dyspepsia.  She  said  she  could  n't  go. 
Randolph  won't  go,  either :  he  does  n't  think  much  of  old 
castles. 

WINTERBOURNE,  smiling. 

Ah,  your  brother  is  n't  interested  in  historical  monuments  ? 

DAISY. 

Well,  he  's  generally  disappointed.  He  wants  to  stay 
round  here.  Mother  's  afraid  to  leave  him  alone,  and  Eu- 
genio  can't  be  induced  to  stay  with  him,  so  that  we  have  n't 
been  to  many  places.  But  it  will  be  too  bad  if  we  don't  go 
up  to  that  castle. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  think  it  might  be  arranged.  Let  me  see.  Could  n't  you 
get  some  one  to  remain  for  the  afternoon  with  Kandolph  ? 

DAISY,  suddenly. 

Oh,  yes ;  we  could  get  Mr.  Reverdy  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Mr.  Reverdy  ? 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  NINTH.  69 

DAISY. 

He's  awfully  fond  of  Eandolph;  they're  always  fooling 
round. 

WINTEKBOURNE,  laughing. 

It  is  n't  a  bad  idea.     Keverdy  must  lay  in  a  stock  of  sugar. 

DAISY. 
There 's  one  thing :  with  you,  mother  will  be  afraid  to  go. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She  carries  her  timidity  too  far  !     We  must  wait  till  she 
has  got  used  to  me. 

DAISY. 

I  don't  want  to  wait.     I  want  to  go  right  off. 

^jL»u= 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  you  can  hardly  force  her  to  come,  you  know. 

DAISY. 
I  don't  want  to  force  her  :   I  want  to  leave  her ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

To  leave  her  behind  ?      What,  then,  would  you  do  for  an 
escort  ? 

DAISY,  serenely. 

I  would  take  you. 

WINTERBOURNE,  astounded. 

Me?     Me  alone? 

DAISY,  laughing. 

You  seem  about  as  timid  as  mother  !     Never  mind,  I  '11 
take  care  of  you. 

WINTERBOURNE,  still  bewildered. 

Off  to  Chillon  —  with  you  alone  —  right  off  ? 

DAISY,  eagerly  questioning. 

Bight  off  ?     Could  we  go  now  ? 


70  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

She  takes  away  my  breath  !     (Aloud.)     There  's  a  boat  just 
after  three. 


We  '11  go  straight  on  board  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

She  has  known  me  for  a  couple  of  hours  !  (Aloud,  rather 
formally.)  The  privilege  for  me  is  immense  ;  but  I  feel  as  if 
I  ought  to  urge  you  to  reflect  a  little. 

DAISY. 

So  as  to  show  how  stiff  you  can  be  ?     Oh,  I  know  all 

about  that.  WINTEBBOUBNE. 

No,  just  to  remind  you  that  your  mother  will  certainly 
discover  .  .  . 

DAISY,  staring. 

Will  certainly  discover  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Your  little  escapade.     You  can't  hide  it. 

DAISY,  amazed,  and  a  little  touched. 

I  don't  know  what  you  mean.     I  have  nothing  to  hide. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 
Ah,    I    give    it    up  !       (Seeing  Eugenio,  who  comes  out  of  the  hotel.) 

And  here  comes  that  odious  creature,  to  spoil  it  ! 


SCENE  TENTH. 
WINTERBOURNE,  DAISY,  EUGENIO. 

EUGENIO. 
Mademoiselle,  your  mother  requests  that  you  will  come  to 

r'  DAISY. 

I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it ! 


ACT  FIRST:  SCENE  TENTH.  71 

EUGENIO. 

You  should  not  do  me  the  injustice  to  doubt  of  my  honor ! 
Madame  asked  me  to  look  for  you  ten  minutes  ago ;  but  I 
was  detained  by  meeting  in  the  hall  a  lady  (speaking  slowly,  and 
looking  at  Winterbourne),  a  Russian  lady,  whom  I  once  had  the 
honor  to  serve,  and  who  was  leaving  the  hotel. 

WINTERBOURNE,  startled,  aside. 

Madame  de  Katkoff  —  leaving  already  ? 

EUGENIO,  watching  Winterbourne. 

She  had  so  many  little  bags  that  she  could  hardly  settle 
herself  in  the  carriage,  and  I  thought  it  my  duty  —  I  have 
had  so  much  practice  —  to  show  her  how  to  stow  them 
away. 

WINTERBOURNE,  quickly,  to  Daisy. 

Will  you  kindly  excuse  me  a  moment  ? 

EUGENIO,  obsequious,  interposing. 

If  it  's  to  overtake  the  Russian  lady,  Madame  de  Katkoff 
is  already  far  away.  (Aside.)  She  had  four  horses:  I 
frightened  her  more  than  a  little  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Par  away  —  without  another  word  ?  She  can  be  hard  — 
when  she  tries.  Very  good.  Let  me  see  if  I  can  be  the 
same  ! 

DAISY,  noticing  Winterbourne,  aside. 

Poor  man,  he  's  stiffer  than  ever !  But  I  'm  glad  she 
has  gone.  (Aloud.)  See  here,  Eugenio,  I  'm  going  to  that 
castle. 

EUGENIO,  with  a  certain  impertinence. 

Mademoiselle  has  made  arrangements  ? 

DAISY. 
Well,  if  Mr.  Winterboume  does  n't  back  out. 


72  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Back  out  ?  I  sha'n't  be  happy  till  we  are  off !  (Aside.) 
I  '11  go  anywhere  —  with  any  one  —  now  ;  and  if  the  poor 
girl  is  injured  by  it,  it  is  n't  ray  fault ! 

EUGENIO. 

I  think  Mademoiselle  will  find  that  Madame  is  in  no 
state  — 

DAISY. 

My  dear  Eugenic,  Madame  will  stay  at  home  with  you. 

WINTERBOURNE,  wincing,  aside. 

If  she  would  only  not  call  him  her  "  dear  "  ! 

EUGENIO. 

I  take  the  liberty  of  advising  Mademoiselle  not  to  go  to 
the  castle. 

WINTERBOURNE,  irritated. 

You  had  better  remember  that  your  place  is  not  to  advise, 
but  to  look  after  the  little  bags  ! 

DAISY. 

Oh,  I  hoped  you  would  make  a  fuss  !  But  I  don't  want 
to  go  now. 

WINTERBOURNE,  decided. 

I  shall  make  a  fuss  if  you  don't  go. 

DAISY,  nervously,  with  a  little  laugh. 

That 's  all  I  want  —  a  little  fuss  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

She 's  not  so  easy  as  she  would  like  to  appear.  She  knows 
it 's  a  risk  —  but  she  likes  the  risk. 

EUGENIO. 

If  Mademoiselle  will  come  with  me,  I  will  undertake  to 

Organize  a  fuss.       (A  steamboat  whistle  is  heard  in  the  distance.) 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE  ELEVENTH.  73 

WINTERBOURNE,  to  Daisy. 

The  boat 's  coming  up.     You  have  only  till  three  o'clock. 

DAISY,  suddenly  decided. 

Oh,  I  can  be  quick  when  I  try  !       (Hurries  into  the  hotel.) 
WINTERBOURNE,  looking  a  moment  at  Eugenio. 

You  had  better  not  interfere  with  that  young  lady ! 

EUGENIO,  insolent. 

I  suppose  you  mean  that  I  had  better  not  interfere  with 
you  !  You  had  better  not  defy  me  to  do  so  !  (Aside.)  It 's 
a  pity  I  sent  away  the  Katkoff  !  (Follows  Daisy  into  the  hotel.) 

WINTERBOURNE,  alone. 

That 's  a  singularly  offensive  beast !  And  what  the  mis 
chief  does  he  mean  by  his  having  been  in  Tier  service? 
Thank  heaven  she  has  got  rid  of  him  !  (seeing  Mrs.  Costeiio,  Miss 

Durant,  and  Charles  Reverdy,  who  issue  from  the  hotel,  the  ladies  dressed  for  a 

walk.)     Oh,  confusion,  I  had  forgotten  them  ! 


SCENE  ELEVENTH. 

MRS.     COSTELLO,     MISS     DURANT,     CHARLES    REVERDY, 
WINTERBOURNE,  THEN  DAISY. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Well,  Frederick,  we  take  for  granted  that  your  little  inter 
view  is  over,  and  that  you  are  ready  to  accompany  us  into 
the  town. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Over,  dear  aunt  ?  Why,  it  's  only  just  begun.  We  are 
going  to  the  Chateau  de  Chillon. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You  and  that  little  girl?  You  will  hardly  get  us  to  believe 
that ! 


74  DAISY  MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

REVERDY,  aside,  still  with  the  camp-stool. 

Hang  me,  why  did  n't  I  think  of  that  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  afraid  I  rather  incommode  you ;  but  I  shall  be  de 
lighted  to  go  into  the  town  when  we  come  back. 

MISS    DURANT. 

You  had  better  never  come  back.      No  one  will  speak  to 
you! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

My  dear  Frederick,  if  you  are  joking,  your  joke  is  in 
dreadful  taste. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  not  joking,  in  the  least.     The  young  lady  is  to  be 
here  at  three. 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

She  herself  is  joking,  then.     She  won't  be  so  crazy  as  to 
come. 

REVERDY,  who  has  gone  to  the  parapet  and  looked  off  to  right,  coming  back, 
taking  out  his  watch. 

It 's  close  upon  three,  and  the  boat 's  at  the  wharf. 

WINTERBOURNE,  watch  in  hand. 

Not  quite  yet.     Give  her  a  moment's  grace. 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

It  won't  be  for  us  to  give  her  grace :  it  will  be  for  society. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  but  you  are  society,  you  know.    She  wants  immensely 
to  know  you. 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

Is  that  why  she  is  flinging  herself  at  you  ? 

WINTERBOURNE,  very  gravely. 

Listen   to   me   seriously,  please.      The   poor   little   girl 
has  given  me  a  great  mark  —  a  very  touching  mark  —  of 


ACT  FIRST:   SCENE  ELEVENTH.  75 

confidence.  I  wish  to  present  her  to  you,  because  I  wish 
some  one  to  answer  for  my  honor. 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

And  pray,  who  is  to  answer  for  hers? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  I  say,  you  're  cruel ! 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

I  am  an  old  woman,  Frederick ;  but  I  thank  my  stars  I 

am  not  too  old  to  be  horrified  1  (The  bell  of  the  steamboat  is  heard  to 
ring  in  the  distance.) 

REVERDY. 

There  's  your  boat,  sir.     I  'm  afraid  you  '11  miss  it ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  watch  still  in  hand,  aside. 

Three  o'clock.     Damn  that  courier  ! 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

If  she  does  n't  come,  you  may  present  her. 

MISS    DURANT. 

She  won't  come.     We  must  do  her  justice. 

DAISY,  hurrying  out  of  the  hotel. 

I  say,  Mr.  Winterbourne,  I  'm  as  punctual  as  you  !     (she 

wears  a  charming  travelling-dress,  and  is  buttoning  her  glove.  Eugenio  appears 
in  the  porch  of  the  hotel,  and  stands  there,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  with 
a  baffled  but  vindictive  air,  watching  the  rest  of  the  scene.) 

REVERDY. 

Alas,  the  presentation 's  gone  ! 

DAISY,  half  aloud. 

Gracious,  how  they  glare  at  me ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  hurriedly. 

Take  my  arm.     The  boat 's  at  the  wharf,     (she  takes  his  arm, 

and  they  hasten  away,  passing  through  the  little  gate  of  the  parapet,  where  they 
descend  and  disappear.  The  bell  of  the  steamer  continues  to  ring.  Mrs.  Costello 
and  her  companions  have  watched  them ;  as  they  vanish,  she  and  Miss  Durant 
each  drop  into  a  chair.) 


76  DAISY  MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

They  will  never  come  back  ! 

MISS    DURANT,  eagerly. 

Is  n't  it  your  duty  to  go  after  them  ? 

REVERDY,  between  the  two. 

They  will  be  lovely  company  for  the  rest  of  the  day  ! 


ACT  SECOND:   SCENE  FIRST.  77 


ACT  SECOND. 

A  beautiful  afternoon  in  the  gardens  of  the  Pincian  Hill  in  Rome, 
view  of  St.  Peter's  in  the  distance. 


SCENE  FIRST. 

WINTERBOURNE,  MADAME  DE  KATKOFF,  meeting  from  opposite 

sides.     He  stands  before  her  a  moment,  and  kisses  her  hand. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

When,  at  your  hotel  just  now,  they  told  me  you  had  gone 
out,  I  was  pretty  sure  you  had  come  here. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  always  come  here  as  soon  as  I  arrive  in  Rome,  for  the 
sake  of  that  view.  It  's  an  old  friend  of  mine. 

"WINTERBOURNE. 

Have  you  no  old  friends  but  that,  and  was  n't  it  also  —  a 
little  —  for  the  sake  of  meeting  one  or  two  of  them  ?  We 
all  come  here,  you  know. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

One  or  two  of  them  ?  You  don't  mean  two  —  you  mean 
one !  I  know  you  all  come  here,  and  that  's  why  I  have 
arrived  early,  before  the  crowd  and  the  music. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That 's  what  I  was  counting  on.  I  know  your  tastes.  I 
wanted  to  find  you  alone. 

MADAME   DE   KATKOFF. 

Being  alone  with  you  is  n't  one  of  my  tastes  !     If  I  had 


78  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

known  I 'should  meet  you,  I  think  I  should  n't  have  left  my 
carriage. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  it 's  there,  at  hand,  you  might  invite  me  to  get  into  it. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  have  sent  it  away  for  half  an  hour,  while  I  stretch  myself 
a  little.  I  have  been  sitting  down  for  a  week  —  in  railway- 
trains. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  can't  escape  from  me,  then  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Don't  begin  that  way,  or  you  '11  disappoint  me.  You 
speak  as  if  you  had  received  none  of  my  letters. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

And  you  speak  as  if  you  had  written  me  a  dozen  !  I  re 
ceived  three  little  notes. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

They  were  short,  but  they  were  clear. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  very  clear  indeed  !  "  You  're  an  awful  nuisance,  and 
I  wish  never  to  hear  of  you  again."  That  was  about  the 
gist  of  them. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

"  Unless  you  promise  not  to  persecute  me,  I  won't  come 
to  Rome."  That's  more  how  I  should  express  it.  And  you 
did  promise. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  promised  to  try  and  hate  you,  for  that  seemed  to  be  what 
you  wished  to  bring  me  to  !  And  I  have  been  waiting  for 
you  these  three  weeks,  as  a  man  waits  for  his  worst  enemy. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  FJ 

^* 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  should  be  your  worst  enemy  indeed,  if  I  listened  to  you 
—  if  I  allowed  you  to  mingle  your  fresh,  independent  life 
with  my  own  embarrassed  and  disillusioned  one.  If  you 
have  been  here  three  weeks,  you  ought  to  have  found  some 
profitable  occupation. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  speak  as  if  I  were  looking  out  for  a  job  !  My  princi 
pal  occupation  has  been  waiting  for  you. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It  must  have  made  you  pleasant  company  to  your  friends. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

My  friends  are  only  my  aunt  and  the  young  lady  who  is 
with  her  —  a  very  good  girl,  but  painfully  prim.  I  have 
been  devoted  to  them,  because  I  said  to  myself  that  after  you 
came  — 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  would  n't  have  possession  of  your  senses  ?  So  it  ap 
pears.  On  the  same  principle,  I  hope  you  have  shown  some 
attention  to  the  little  girl  who  was  at  Vevey,  whom  I  saw  you 
in  such  a  fair  way  to  be  intimate  with. 

WINTERBOURNE,  after  a  silence. 

What  do  you  know  about  her  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Nothing  but  that  we  are  again  at  the  same  hotel.  A 
former  servant  of  mine,  a  very  unprincipled  fellow,  is  now  in 
her  mother's  employ,  and  he  was  the  first  person  I  met  as  I 
left  my  rooms  to-day.  I  imagine  from  this  that  the  young 
lady  is  not  far  off. 

W'INTERBOURNE. 

Not  far  off  from  him.     I  wish  she  were  farther  ! 


80  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFP. 

She  struck  me  last  summer  as  remarkably  attractive. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She  's  exactly  what  she  was  last  summer  —  only  more  so  ! 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

She  must  be  quite  enchanting,  then. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Do  you  wish  me  to  fall  in  love  with  her  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It  would  give  me  particular  pleasure.  I  would  go  so  far 
as  to  be  the  confidant  of  your  passion. 

WJNTERBOURNE. 

I  have  no  passion  to  confide.  She  Js  a  little  American 
flirt. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

It  seems  to  me  there  is  a  certain  passion  in  that ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She  's  foolish,  frivolous,  futile.  She  is  making  herself 
terribly  talked  about. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

She  looked  to  me  very  innocent  —  with  those  eyes  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  yes,  I  made  a  great  deal  of  those  eyes  —  they  have 
the  most  charming  lashes.  But  they  look  at  too  many  people. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Should  you  like  them  to  fix  themselves  on  you  ?  You  're 
rather  difficult  to  please.  The  young  lady  with  your  aunt  is 
too  grave,  and  this  poor  little  person  is  too  gay  !  You  had 
better  find  some  one  who  's  between  the  two. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  are  between  the  two,  and  you  won't  listen  to  me. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  FIRST.  81 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  think  I  understand  your  country-people  better  than  you 
do.  I  have  learned  a  good  deal  about  them  from  my  obser 
vation  of  yourself. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  must  have  made  you  very  fond  of  them  J 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It  has  made  me  feel  very  kindly  toward  them,  as  you  see 
from  my  interest  in  those  young  ladies.  Don't  judge  them 
by  what  they  seem.  They  are  probably  just  the  opposite, 
for  that  is  precisely  the  case  with  yourself.  Most  people 
think  you  very  cold,  but  I  have  discovered  the  truth.  You 
are  like  one  of  those  tall  German  stoves,  which  present  to 
the  eye  a  surface  of  smooth  white  porcelain,  without  the 
slightest  symptom  of  fuel  or  of  flame.  Nothing  at  first 
could  seem  less  glowing  ;  but  after  you  have  been  in  the 
room  with  it  for  half  an  hour  you  feel  that  the  temperature 
is  rising  —  and  you  want  to  open  a  window  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

A  tall  German  stove  —  that 's  a  very  graceful  comparison. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  am  sure  your  grave  young  lady  is  very  gay. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It  does  n't  matter ;  she  has  got  a  young  man  of  her  own. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

The  young  man  who  was  always  with  them  ?  If  you  are 
going  to  be  put  off  by  a  rival,  I  have  nothing  to  say. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

He  's  not  a  rival  of  mine ;  he  's  only  a  rival  of  my  aunt's. 
She  wants  me  to  marry  Miss  Durant,  but  Miss  Durant  pre 
fers  the  gallant  Eeverdy. 

6 


82  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

That  simplifies  it. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Not  so  very  much ;  because  the  gallant  Reverdy  shows  a 
predilection  for  Miss  Daisy  Miller. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Ah,  then  he  is  your  rival ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

There  are  so  many  others  that  he  does  n't  count.  She  has 
at  least  a  dozen  admirers,  and  she  knocks  about  Eome  with 
all  of  them.  She  once  told  me  that  she  was  very  fond  of 
gentlemen's  society;  but  unfortunately  they  are  not  all 
gentlemen. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF 

So  much  the  better  chance  for  you. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She  does  n't  know,  she  can't  distinguish.  She  is  incredi 
bly  light. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It  seems  to  me  that  you  express  yourself  with  a  certain 
bitterness. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  not  in  the  least  in  love  with  her,  if  that 's  what  you 
mean.  But  simply  as  an  outsider,  as  a  spectator,  as  an 
American,  I  can't  bear  to  see  a  nice  girl  —  if  she  is  a  nice 
girl  —  expose  herself  to  the  most  odious  misconception. 
That  is,  if  she  is  a  nice  girl ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

•  By  my  little  system,  she  ought  to  be  very  nice.     If  she 
seems  very  wild,  depend  upon  it  she  is  very  tame. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She  has  produced  a  fearful  amount  of  scandal. 


ACT   SECOND:   SCENE   FIRST.    "  83 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Th.it  proves  she  has  nothing  to  hide.  The  wicked  ones 
are  not  found  out ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She  has  nothing  to  hide  but  her  mother,  whom  she  con 
ceals  so  effectually  that  no  mortal  eye  has  beheld  her.  Miss 
Daisy  goes  to  parties  alone  !  When  I  say  alone,  I  mean  that 
she  is  usually  accompanied  by  a  foreigner  with  a  waxed 
moustache  and  a  great  deal  of  manner.  She  is  too  nice  for 
a  foreigner ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  smiling. 

As  a  Eussian,  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  ! 

WINTEEBOURNE. 

This  isn't  a  Russian.  He  's  a  Roman — the  Cavaliere 
Giovanelli. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  spoke  of  a  dozen,  and  now  you  have  settled  down  to 
one. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

There  were  a  dozen  at  first,  but  she  picked  them  over  and 
selected.  She  has  made  a  mistake,  because  the  man  she  has 
chosen  is  an  adventurer. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

An  adventurer  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  a  very  plausible  one.  He  is  very  good  looking,  very 
polite  ;  he  sings  little  songs  at  parties.  He  comes  of  a  re 
spectable  family,  but  he  has  squandered  his  small  patrimony, 
and  he  has  no  means  of  subsistence  but  his  personal  charms, 
which  he  has  been  hoping  for  the  last  ten  years  will  endear 
him  to  some  susceptible  American  heiress  —  whom  he  flatters 
himself  he  has  found  at  last ! 


84  DAISY   MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  ought  to  advise  her  —  to  put  her  on  her  guard. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  she 's  not  serious  j  she  is  only  amusing  herself. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Try  and  make  her  serious.  That 's  a  mission  for  an  honest 
man! 

WINTERBOURNE,  after  a  moment. 

It 's  so  odd  to  hear  you  defending  her !  It  only  puzzles 
me  the  more. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  ought  to  understand  your  countrywomen  better. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

My  countrywomen  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  don't  mean  me :  I  mean  Miss  Daisy  Miller. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It  seems  very  stupid,  I  confess ;  but  I  have  lived  so  long  in 
foreign  parts,  among  people  of  different  manners.  I  mean, 
however,  to  settle  the  question  to-day  and  to  make  up  my 
mind.  I  shall  meet  Miss  Daisy  at  four  o'clock.  I  have 
promised  to  go  to  Mrs.  Walker's. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

And  pray  who  is  Mrs.  Walker  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

The  wife  of  the  American  consul  —  a  very  good-natured 
woman,  who  has  a  passion  for  afternoon-tea.  She  took  up 
Miss  Daisy  when  they  came ;  she  used  to  call  her  the  little 
Flower  of  the  West.  But 'now  she  's  holding  the  little 
flower  in  her  finger-tips,  at  arm's  length,  trying  to  decide  to 
let  it  drop. 


ACT  SECOND:   SCENE  FIRST.  85 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Poor  little  flower !     It  must  be  four  o'clock  now. 

WINTERBOURNE,  looking  at  his  watch. 

You  're  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  rid  of  me  !  Mrs.  Walker's 
is  close  at  hand,  just  beyond  the  Spanish  Steps.  I  shall 
have  time  to  stroll  round  the  Pincian  with  you. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  have  had  strolling  enough.     I  shall  wait  for  my  carriage. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Let  me  at  least  come  and  see  you  this  evening. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  should  be  delighted,  but  I  am  going  to  the  opera. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Already  ?     The  first  night  you  are  here  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It 's  not  the  first ;  it 's  the  second.  I  am  very  fond  of 
music. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It 's  always  bad  in  Italy. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  have  made  provision  against  that  in  the  person  of  the 
Russian  ambassador,  whom  I  have  asked  to  come  into  my 
box. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  with  ambassadors  I  stand  no  chance. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  smiling. 

You  are  the  greatest  diplomatist  of  all !     Good-by  for  the 

present.       (She  turns  away.    Winterbourne  looks  after  her  a  moment. ) 
WINTERBOURNE. 

You  decide  more  easily  than  Mrs.  Walker :  you  have 
dropped  me ! 


86  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Ah,  but  yOU  're  not  a  flower  !  (Winterbourne  looks  at  her  an  in 
stant  longer ;  then,  with  a  little  passionate  switch  of  his  stick,  he  walks  off.  Just 
as  he  disappears,  Eugenic  comes  in  at  the  back.)  And  DOW  I  shall  have  a 

quiet  evening  with  a  book  ! 


SCENE   SECOND. 

MADAME  DE  KATKOFF,  EUGENIO,  who  enters  hat  in  hand,  with 
a  bow. 

EUGENIO. 

It 's  the  second  time  to-day  that  I  have  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  Madame. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

I  should  like  very  much  to  believe  it  would  be  the  last ! 

EUGENIO,  twirling  his  hat. 

That,  perhaps,  is  more  than  I  can  promise.  We  will  call 
it  the  last  but  one  ;  for  my  purpose  in  approaching  Madame 
is  to  demand  an  interview  —  a  serious  interview  !  Seeing 
Madame,  at  a  distance,  in  conversation  with  a  gentleman,  I 
waited  till  the  gentleman  had  retired ;  for  I  must  do  Madame 
the  justice  to  admit  that,  with  Madame,  the  gentlemen  do 
usually,  at  last,  retire  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It 's  a  misfortune  to  me,  since  they  leave  me  exposed  ! 

EUGENIO. 

Madame  is  not  exposed  ;  Madame  is  protected.  So  long 
as  I  have  an  eye  on  Madame,  I  can  answer  for  it  that  she 
will  suffer  no  injury. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  protect  me  as  the  butcher  protects  the  lamb  !  I  sup 
pose  you  have  come  to  name  your  price. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  SECOND.      87 

EUGENIC. 

Madame  goes  straight  to  the  point !  I  have  come  to  name 
my  price,  but  not  to  ask  for  money. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It 's  very  kind  of  you  to  recognize  that  I  have  not  money 
enough. 

EUGENIO. 

Madame  has  money  enough,  but  the  talents  of  Madame 
are  still  greater  than  her  wealth.  It  is  with  the  aid  of  these 
talents  that  I  shall  invite  Madame  to  render  me  a  service  — 
a  difficult,  delicate  service,  but  so  valuable  that  it  will  release 
Madame  from  further  obligations. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  ironical. 

It 's  delightful  to  think  of  being  released  !  I  suppose  the 
service  is  to  recommend  you  as  a  domestic.  That  would  be 
difficult,  certainly. 

EUGENIO. 

Too  difficult  —  for  Madame  !  No ;  it  is  simply,  as  I  say, 
to  grant  me  an  interview,  when  I  can  explain.  Be  so  good 
as  to  name  an  hour  when  I  can  wait  upon  you. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

In  my  apartments  ?  I  would  rather  not  see  you  there. 
Explain  to  me  here. 

EUGENIO. 

It 's  a  little  delicate  for  a  public  place.  Besides,  I  have 
another  appointment  here. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  do  a  great  business  !  If  you  mean  that  I  am  to 
wait  upon  you,  we  may  as  well  drop  negotiations. 

EUGENIO. 

Let  us  compromise.     My  appointment  will  end  in  a  quar- 


88  DAISY   MILLER:   A    COMEDY. 

ter  of  an  hour.     If  at  that  time   Madame  is  still  on  the 
Pincian  — 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  would  like  me  to  sit  upon  a  bench  till  you  are  ready 

to  attend  to  me  ? 

EUGENIO. 

It  would  have  the  merit  of  settling  the  matter  at  once, 
without  more  suspense  for  Madame. 

MADAME  DE  KATKOFF,  thoughtfully,  aside. 

That  would  be  a  merit,  certainly ;  and  I  am  curious  about 
the  exercise  he  wishes  to  offer  my  talents  !  (Aloud.)  I  shall 
stroll  about  here  till  my  carriage  comes  ;  if  you  wish  to  take 
advantage  of  that  — 

EUGENIO. 

To  take  advantage  is  exactly  what  I  wish  !  And  as  this 
particular  spot  is  exceptionally  quiet  I  shall  look  for  Madame 
here. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  as  she  strolls  away. 

How  unspeakably  odious  ! 

EUGENIO,  alone  a  moment,  looking  after  her. 

She  shall  bend  till  she  breaks  !  The  delay  will  have  the 
merit,  too,  of  making  me  sure  of  Giovanelli  —  if  he  only 
keeps  the  tryst !  I  must  n't  throw  away  a  card  on  her  before 
I  Ve  won  the  game  of  him.  But  he  's  such  a  deuced  fine 
gentleman  that  there  's  no  playing  fair  !  (Seeing  Giovanelli,  -who 

comes  in  at  the  left.)      He  IS  Up  to  time,  though.      (Bowing.)      Signor 

Cavaliere ! 

SCENE  THIRD. 

EUGENIO,  GIOVANELLI. 

GIOVANELLI,  very  elegant,  with  flowers  in  his  buttonhole;  cautious,  looking 
round  him. 

You  might  have  proposed  meeting  in  some  less  conspicu 
ous  spot ! 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  THIRD.  89 

EUGENIC. 

In  the  Coliseum,  at  midnight  ?  My  dear  sir,  we  should 
be  much  more  compromised  if  we  were  discovered  there  ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

Oh,  if  you  count  upon  our  being  discovered  !  .  .  . 

EUGENIC. 

There  is  nothing  so  unnatural  in  our  having  a  little  con 
versation.  One  should  never  be  ashamed  of  an  accomplice! 

GIOVANELLI,  with  a  grimace,  disgusted. 

Don't  speak  of  accomplices  :  as  if  we  were  concocting  a 
crime ! 

EUGENIC. 

What  makes  it  a  work  of  merit  is  my  conviction  that  you 
are  a  perfect  gentleman.  If  it  had  n't  been  for  that,  I  never 
should  have  presented  you  to  my  family. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Your  family  ?     You  speak  as  if,  in  marrying  the  girl,  I 
should  become  your  brother-in-law. 
EUGENIC. 
We  shall  certainly  be  united  by  a  very  peculiar  tie  ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

United  —  united  ?  I  don't  know  about  that !  After  my 
marriage,  I  shall  travel  without  a  courier,  (smiling.)  It  will 
be  less  expensive ! 

EUGENIC. 

In  the  event  you  speak  of,  I  myself  hardly  expect  to  re 
main  in  the  ranks.  I  have  seen  too  many  campaigns  :  I 
shall  retire  on  my  pension.  You  look  as  if  you  did  not 
understand  me. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Perfectly.  You  expect  the  good  Mrs.  Miller  to  make  you 
comfortable  for  the  rest  of  your  days. 


90  DAISY   MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

EUGENIO. 

What  I  expect  of  the  good  Mrs.  Miller  is  one  thing; 
•what  I  expect  of  you  is  another :  and  on  that  point  we  had 
better  be  perfectly  clear.  It  was  to  insure  perfect  clearness 
that  I  proposed  this  little  conference,  which  you  refused  to 
allow  to  take  place  either  in  your  own  lodgings  or  in  some 
comfortable  cafe.  Oh,  I  know  you  had  your  reasons  !  You 
don't  exhibit  your  little  interior ;  and  though  I  know  a  good 
deal  about  you,  I  don't  know  where  you  live.  It  does  n't 
matter,  I  don't  want  to  know :  it 's  enough  for  me  that  I 
can  always  find  you  here,  amid  the  music  and  the  flowers. 
But  I  can't  exactly  make  out  why  you  would  n't  meet  me  at 
a  cafe.  I  would  gladly  have  paid  for  a  glass  of  beer. 

GIOVANELLI. 

It  was  just  your  beer  I  was  afraid  of  !  I  never  touch  the 
beastly  stuff. 

EUGENIO. 

Ah,  if  you  drink  nothing  but  champagne,  no  wonder  you 
are  looking  for  an  heiress  !  But  before  I  help  you  to  one, 
let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice.  Make  the  best  of  me,  if 
you  wish  me  to  make  the  best  of  you.  I  was  determined 
to  do  that  when  I  presented  you  to  the  two  most  amiable 
women  in  the  world. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  must  protest  against  your  theory  that  you  presented  me. 
I  met  Mrs.  Miller  at  a  party,  as  any  gentleman  might  have 

done. 

EUGENIO. 

You  met  her  at  a  party,  precisely ;  but  unless  I  wish  it, 
Mrs.  Miller  does  n't  go  to  a  party  !  I  let  you  know  she 
was  to  be  there,  and  I  advised  you  how  to  proceed.  For  the 
last  three  weeks  I  have  done  nothing  but  arrange  little  acci- 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  THIRD.         91 

dents,  little  surprises,  little  occasions,  of  which  I  will  do 
you  the  justice  to  say  that  you  have  taken  excellent  advan 
tage.  But  the  time  has  come  when  I  must  remind  you  that 
I  have  not  done  all  this  from  mere  admiration  of  your  dis 
tinguished  appearance.  I  wish  your  success  to  be  my 
success  ! 

GIOVANELLI,  pleased,  with  a  certain  simplicity. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  you  talk  about  my  success  ! 

EUGENIC. 

Oh,  there 's  a  good  deal  to  be  said  about  it !  Have  you 
ever  been  to  the  circus  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  it ! 

EUGENIC. 

You  've  seen  the  bareback  rider  turn  a  somersault  through 
the  paper  hoops  ?  It 's  a  very  pretty  feat,  and  it  brings  him 
great  applause ;  but  half  the  effect  depends  upon  the  poor 
devil  —  whom  no  one  notices  —  who  is  perched  upon  the 
edge  of  the  ring.  If  he  did  n't  hold  the  hoop  with  a  great 
deal  of  skill,  the  bareback  rider  would  simply  come  down 
on  his  nose.  You  turn  your  little  somersaults,  Signer 
Cavaliere,  and  my  young  lady  claps  her  hands  ;  but  all  the 
while  /  'm  holding  the  hoop  ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

If  I  'm  not  mistaken,  that  office,  at  the  circus,  is  usually 
performed  by  the  clown. 

EUGENIC. 
Take  very  good  care,  or  you  '11  have  a  fall ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  suppose  you  want  to  be  paid  for  your  trouble. 


92  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

EUGENIC. 

The  point  is  n't  that  I  want  to  be  paid :  that  goes  without 
saying !  But  I  want  to  be  paid  handsomely. 

GIOVANELLI. 

What  do  you  call  handsomely  ? 

EUGENIC. 

A  commission  proportionate  to  the  fortune  of  the  young 
lady.  I  know  something  about  that.  I  have  in  my  pocket 
(slapping  his  side)  the  letter  of  credit  of  the  Signora.  She  lets 
me  carry  it  —  for  safety's  sake  ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

Poor  Signora  !     It 's  a  strange  game  we  are  playing ! 

EUGENIC,  looking  at  him  a  moment. 

Oh,  if  you  doubt  of  the  purity  of  your  motives,  you  have 
only  to  say  so.  You  swore  to  me  that  you  adored  my  young 
lady. 

GIOVANELLI. 

She  's  an  angel,  and  I  worship  the  ground  she  treads  on. 
That  makes  me  wonder  whether  I  could  n't  get  on  without 
you. 

EUGENIC,  dryly. 

Try  it  and  see.  I  have  only  to  say  the  word,  and  Mrs. 
Miller  will  start  to-morrow  for  the  north. 

GIOVANELLI. 

And  if  you  don't  say  the  word,  that 's  another  thing  you 
want  to  be  paid  for  !  It  mounts  up  very  fast. 

EUGENIO. 

It  mounts  up  to  fifty  thousand  francs,  to  be  handed  to 
me  six  months  after  you  are  married. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Fifty  thousand  francs? 


ACT  SECOND:    SCENE  THIRD.  93 

EUGENIO. 

The  family  exchequer  will  never  miss  them.  Besides,  I 
give  you  six  months.  You  sign  a  little  note,  "for  value 
received." 

GIOVANELLI. 

And  if  the  marriage  —  if  the  marriage  — 

EUGENIO. 

If  the  marriage  comes  to  grief,  I  burn  up  the  note. 

GIOVANELLI. 

How  can  I  be  sure  of  that  ? 

EUGENIO. 

By  having  already  perceived  that  I  'm  not  an  idiot.  If 
you  don't  marry,  you  can't  pay :  I  need  no  one  to  tell  me 
that.  But  I  intend  you  shall  marry. 

GIOVANELLI,  satirical. 

It  's  uncommonly  good  of  you  !  After  all,  I  have  n't  a 
squint ! 

EUGENIO. 

I  picked  you  out  for  your  good  looks ;  and  you  're  so 
tremendously  fascinating  that  even  when  I  lose  patience  with 
your  want  of  everything  else  I  can't  afford  to  sacrifice  you. 
Your  prospects  are  now  very  good.  The  estimable  mother — 

*  9      GIOVANELLI. 

The  estimable  mother  believes  me  to  be  already  engaged 
to  her  daughter.  It  shows  how  much  she  knows  about  it ! 

EUGENIO. 

No,  you  are  not  engaged,  but  you  will  be,  next  week. 
You  have  rather  too  many  flowers  there,  by  the  way  :  you 

OVerdo  it  a  little.       (Pointing  to  Giovanelli's  button-hole.) 
GIOVANELLI. 

So  long  as  you  pay  for  them,  the  more  the  better  !     How 


94  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

far  will  it  carry  me  to  be  engaged  ?     Mr.  Miller  can  hardly 
be  such  a  fool  as  his  wife. 

EUGENIC,  stroking  his  moustache. 

Mr.  Miller  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

The  mysterious  father,  in  that  unpronounceable  town ! 
He  must  be  a  man  of  energy,  to  have  made  such  a  fortune, 
and  the  idea  of  his  energy  haunts  me  ! 

EUGENIC. 

That 's  because  you  Ve  got  none  yourself. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  don't  pretend  to  that ;  I  only  pretend  to  —  a  — 

EUGENIC. 

To  be  fascinating,  I  know  !  But  you  're  afraid  the  papa 
won't  see  it. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  don't  exactly  see  why  he  should  set  his  heart  on  a  Ro 
man  son-in-law. 

EUGENIC. 

It 's  your  business  to  produce  that  miracle  ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

By  making  the  girl  talked  about  ?  My  respect  for  her  is 
in  proportion  to  the  confidence  she  shows  me.  That  con 
fidence  is  unlimited. 

EUGENIC. 

Oh,  unlimited  !  I  have  never  seen  anything  like  that 
confidence ;  and  if  out  of  such  a  piece  of  cloth  as  that  you 
can't  cut  a  coat  — 

»  GIOVANELLI. 

I  never  pretended  to  be  a  tailor !  And  you  must  not  for 
get  that  I  have  a  rival. 


ACT  SECOND:   SCENE  THIRD.  95 

EUGENIO. 

Forget  it  ?  I  regard  it  as  a  particularly  gratifying  fact. 
If  you  did  n't  have  a  rival  I  should  have  very  small  hopes 
of  you. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  confess  I  don't  follow  you.  The  young  lady's  confidence 
in  Mr.  Winterbourne  is  at  least  equal  to  her  confidence  in 
me. 

EUGENIO. 

Ah,  but  his  confidence  in  the  young  lady?  That 's  another 
aifair !  He  thinks  she  goes  too  far.  He  's  an  American, 
like  herself ;  but  there  are  Americans  and  Americans,  and 
when  they  take  it  into  their  heads  to  open  their  eyes  they 
open  them  very  wide. 

GIOVANELLI. 

If  you  mean  that  this  American 's  a  donkey,  I  see  no 
reason  to  differ  with  you. 

EUGENIO. 

Leave  him  to  me.     I  *ve  got  a  stick  to  beat  him  with ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

You  make  me  shiver  a  little  !  Do  you  mean  to  put  him 
out  of  the  way  ? 

EUGENIO. 

I  mean  to  put  him  out  of  the  way.  Ah,  you  can  trust  me  ! 
I  don't  carry  a  stiletto,  and  if  you  '11  excuse  me  I  won't 
describe  my  little  plan.  You  '11  tell  me  what  you  think  of 
it  when  you  have  seen  the  results.  The  great  feature  is 
simply  that  Miss  Daisy,  seeing  herself  abandoned  — 

GIOVANELLI. 

Will  look  about  her  for  a  consoler  ?  Ah,  consolation  i§  a 
specialty  of  mine,  and  if  you  give  me  a  chance  to  console  I 
think  I  shall  be  safe. 


96  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

EUGENIC. 

I  shall  gO  to  Work  On  the  spot  !       (Talcea  out  his  pocket-book,  from 
which  he  extracts  a  small  folded  paper,  holding  it  up  a  moment  before  Giovanelli.) 

Put  your  name  to  that,  and  send  it  back  to  me  by  post. 

GIOVANELLI,  reading  the  paper  with  a  little  grimace. 

Fifty  thousand  !     Fifty  thousand  is  steep. 

EUGENIO. 

Signor  Cavaliere,  the  letter  of  credit  is  for  half  a  million  ! 

GIOVANELLI,  pocketing  the  paper. 

Well,  give  me  a  chance  to  console  —  give  me  a  chance  to 

console  !      (Goes  off  at  the  back,  while,  at  the  same  moment,  Madame  de 
Katkoff  reappears.) 


SCENE  FOUBTH. 

EUGENIO,  MADAME  DE  KATKOFF. 

EUGENIO,  perceiving  her,  aside. 

The  Katkoff  —  up  to  time  !  If  my  second  little  paper 
works  as  well  as  my  first,  I  have  nothing  to  fear.  (Aloud.) 
I  am  quite  at  the  service  of  Madame. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

My  carriage  has  not  come  back;  it  was  to  pick  up  a  friend 
at  St.  Peter's. 

EUGENIO. 

I  am  greatly  indebted  to  Madame's  friends.  I  have  my 
little  proposition  ready. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

Be  so  good  as  to  let  me  hear  it. 

EUGENIO. 

In  three  words  it  is  this :  Do  me  the  favor  to  captivate 
Mr.  Winterbourne  !  Madame  starts  a  little.  She  will  pre 
tend,  perhaps,  that  Mr.  Winterbourne  is  already  captivated. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  FOURTH.        97 
MADAME  DE  KATKOFF. 

You  have  an  odd  idea  of  my  pretensions  !  I  would 
rather  pay  you  a  sum  of  money  than  listen  to  this  sort  of 
thing. 

EUGENIC. 

I  was  afraid  you  would  be  a  little  shocked  —  at  first. 
But  the  proposal  I  make  has  the  greatest  recommendations. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

For  Mr.  Winterbourne,  certainly  ! 

EUGENIC. 

For  Mr.  Winterbourne,  very  plainly ;  but  also  for 
Madame,  if  she  would  only  reflect  upon  the  facility  — 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

What  do  you  know  about  facility  ?  Your  proposal  is 
odious ! 

EUGENIC. 

The  worst  is  already  done.  Mr.  Winterbourne  is  deeply 
interested  in  Madame. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

His  name  has  no  place  in  our  discussion.  Be  so  good  as 
not  to  mention  it  again. 

EUGENIC. 

It  will  be  easy  not  to  mention  it :  Madame  will  understand 
without  that.  She  will  remember,  perhaps,  that  when  I  had 
the  honor  of  meeting  her  last  summer,  I  was  in  the  service 
of  a  distinguished  family. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

The  amiable  Mrs.  Miller  ?  That  name  has  stuck  in  my 
mind ! 

EUGENIC. 

Permit  me  to  regard  it  as  a  happy  omen !  The  amiable 
Mrs.  Miller,  as  I  then  informed  Madame,  has  a  daughter  as 

7 


98  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

amiable  as  herself.  It  is  of  the  greatest  importance  that  this 
young  lady  should  be  detached  from  the  gentleman  whose 
name  I  am  not  allowed  to  mention. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Should  be  detached  ? 

EUGENIO. 

If  he  is  interested  in  Madame,  he  is  also  a  little  interested 
in  the  Signorina.  You  know  what  men  are,  Madame  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

If  the  Signorina  is  as  amiable  as  you  say,  I  can  imagine 
no  happier  circumstance. 

EUGENIO. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  Madame,  who  is  a  little  tired 
of  the  gentleman ;  but  not  from  my  own,  who  wish  the 
young  lady  to  make  another  marriage. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Excuse  me  from  entering  into  your  points  of  view  and 
your  marriages ! 

EUGENIO,  abruptly. 

Ah,  if  you  choose  to  terminate  the  discussion,  it  was  n't 
worth  while  to  wait.  (A  pause.) 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

It  was  worth  while  to  wait  —  to  learn  what  a  coward  I 
am  !  (Aloud,  after  a  moment.)  Is  Miss  Miller  in  love  with  Mr. 
Winterbourne  ? 

EUGENIO,  smiling. 

I  thought  Madame  would  come  to  the  name  !  (Aside.)  It 
was  the  idea  that  fetched  her !  (Aloud.)  Miss  Miller  is  not, 
perhaps,  exactly  in  love  with  Mr.  Winterbourne,  but  she  has 
a  great  appreciation  of  his  society.  What  I  ask  of  you  is  to 
undertake  that  for  the  next  two  months  she  shall  have  as 
little  of  it  as  possible. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  FOURTH.  99 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

By  taking  as  much  of  it  myself  ?  You  ask  me  to  play  a 
very  pretty  part. 

EUGENIC. 

Madame  would  play  it  to  perfection  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

To  break  a  young  girl's  heart  —  to  act  an  abominable 
comedy  ? 

EUGENIC. 

You  won't  break  any  one's  heart,  unless  it  be  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne's  —  which  will  serve  him  right  for  being  so  tiresome. 
As  for  the  comedy,  remember  that  the  best  actresses  receive 
the  highest  salary. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

If  I  had  been  a  good  actress,  you  never  would  have  got 
me  into  your  power.  What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  your 
little  American  ? 

EUGENIC. 

To  marry  her  to  a  Eoman  gentleman.  All  I  ask  of  you 
is  to  use  a  power  you  already  have.  I  know  that  of  late  it 
has  suited  your  pleasure  not  to  use  it :  you  have  tried  to 
keep  Mr.  Winterbourne  at  a  distance.  But  call  him  a  little 
nearer,  and  you  will  see  that  he  will  come  ! 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

So  that  the  girl  may  see  it  too  ?  Your  ingenuity  does  you 
great  honor.  I  don't  believe  in  your  Roman  gentleman. 

EUGENIO. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  believe.  Believe  only 
that  on  the  day  the  Signorina  becomes  engaged  to  the 
irreproachable  person  I  have  selected,  I  will  place  in  your 
hands  the  document  which  I  hold  at  your  disposition. 


100  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

MADAME   DE   KATKOFF. 

How  am  I  to  be  sure  of  that  ? 

ET7GENIO,  aside. 

They  all  want  to  be  sure!  (Aloud.)  Nothing  venture, 
nothing  have ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

And  if  she  never  becomes  engaged  ? 

EUGENIO. 

Ah,  then,  I  confess,  I  must  still  hold  the  document. 
(Aside.)  That  will  make  her  work  for  it !  (Aloud.)  Why 
should  you  trouble  yourself  with  irrelevant  questions  ?  Your 
task  is  perfectly  definite.  Occupy  Mr.  Winterbourne,  and 
leave  the  rest  to  me. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

I  must  tell  you  —  disagreeable  as  it  may  be  to  me  to  do 
so  —  that  I  shall  have  to  make  a  very  sudden  turn. 

EUGENIO. 

It  will  be  all  the  more  effective,  (complacently.)  Sudden 
turns  are  the  essence  of  fascination  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

It 's  insufferable  to  discuss  with  him  !  But  if  there  's  a 
hope  —  if  there  's  a  hope  .  .  .  (Aloud.)  I  told  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne,  not  an  hour  ago,  that  I  wished  never  to  see  him 
again. 

EUGENIO. 

I  can  imagine  no  more  agreeable  surprise  to  him,  then, 
than  to  be  told,  half  an  hour  hence,  that  you  can't  live  with 
out  him  !  You  know  the  things  the  ladies  say !  Don't 
be  afraid  of  being  sudden  :  he  '11  think  it  the  more  romantic. 
For  you  those  things  are  easy,  Madame  (bowing  low) ;  for  you 
those  things  are  easy.  I  leave  the  matter  to  your  considera 
tion.  (Aside,  as  he  goes  off.)  She  '11  do  it  !  (Exit.) 


ACT  SECOND:   SCENE  FIFTH.  101 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  alone  a  moment. 

Those  things  are  easy  —  those  things  are  easy?     They 
are   easier,  perhaps,  than   paying   out   half   one's   fortune. 

(Stands  a  moment  thoughtful,  then  gives  a  little  nervous  gesture,  as  of  decision.) 

If  I  give  him  leave  to  come  to  the  opera,  I  must  go  myself 
—  to  Italian  music  !  But  an  hour  or  two  of  Donizetti,  for 
the  sake  of  one's  comfort !  ...  He  said  he  would  come 

tack  — from  the  Wife  of  the  consul.  (Looking  about  her,  she  goes 
out.) 


SCENE  FIFTH. 

DAISY,  THEN  GIOVANELLI. 

DAISY,  coming  in  with  a  certain  haste,  and  glancing  behind  her. 

It 's  a  pity  you  can't  walk  in  Eome  without  every  one 
staring  so  !  And  now  he  's  not  here  —  he  's  not  where  he 
said  he  would  be.  I  don't  care.  He  's  very  nice,  but  I 
certainly  shan't  go  and  look  for  him.  I  '11  just  wait  a  little. 
Perhaps,  if  I  don't  walk  round,  they  won't  stare  at  me  so 
much.  I  did  n't  say  good-by  to  Mrs.  Walker,  because  she 
was  talking  to  Mr.  Winterbourne,  and  I  shan't  go  near 
Mr.  Winterbourne  again  till  he  comes  near  me.  Half  an 
hour  in  the  room,  and  never  within  ten  yards  of  me  !  He 
looks  so  pleasant  when  he  talks  —  even  when  he  talks  to 
other  girls.  He  's  always  talking  to  other  girls,  and  not 
even  to  girls  —  to  old  women,  and  gentlemen,  and  foreigners. 
I  've  done  something  he  does  n't  like,  I  'm  very  sure  of  that. 
He  does  n't  like  anything  —  anything  that  /  do.  It 's  hard 
to  know  what  he  does  like  !  He  's  got  such  peculiar  tastes 
—  from  his  foreign  education ;  you  can't  ever  tell  where 
you  '11  find  him.  Well,  I  have  n't  had  a  foreign  education, 
and  I  don't  see  that  I  'm  any  the  worse  for  that.  If  I  'd  had 


102  DAISY  MILLER  :    A  COMEDY. 

a  foreign  education,  I  might  as  well  give  up  !  I  should  n't  be 
able  to  breathe,  for  fear  I  was  breathing  wrong.  There  seem 
to  be  so  many  ways,  over  here  !  But  I  only  know  one  way, 
and  I  don't  see  why  I  should  learn  the  others  when  there 
are  people  who  do  like  —  who  do  like  —  what  I  do.  They 
say  they  do,  at  any  rate,  and  they  say  it  so  prettily  !  The 
English  say  it  very  nicely,  but  the  Italians  say  it  best.  As 
for  the  Americans,  they  don't  say  it  at  all,  and  Mr.  Winter- 
bourne  less  than  any  of  them  !  Well,  I  don't  care  so  much 
about  the  Americans  :  I  can  make  it  all  right  with  the 
Americans  when  I  get  home.  Mr.  Winterbourne  is  n't  an 
American  ;  I  never  saw  any  one  like  him  over  there.  If  I 
had,  perhaps -I  shouldn't  have  come  away;  for  over  there 
it  would  all  be  different.  Well,  it  is  n't  different  here,  and 
I  suppose  it  never  will  be.  Everything  is  strange  over  here; 
and  what  is  strangest  of  all  is  one's  liking  people  that  are 

SO  peculiar.     (Stands  thoughtful  a  moment,  then  rouses  herself.)     There  's 

Mr.  Giovanelli —  a  mile  off.     Does  he  suppose  I  wish  to 

communicate  with  him  by  signs  ?  (Giovanelli  comes  in,  hat  in  hand, 
with  much  eagerness.) 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  have  looked  for  you  everywhere  ! 

DAISY. 
Well,  I  was  n't  everywhere  ;  I  was  here. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Standing  all  alone,  without  a  protector  ! 

DAISY. 

I  was  n't  more  alone  than  I  was  at  Mrs.  Walker's. 

GIOVANELLI,  smiling,  slightly  fatuous. 

Because  I  was  not  there  ? 

DAISY. 
Oh,  it  was  n't  the  people  who  were  not  there  !    (Aside.)    If 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  FIFTH^          103 

they  had  known  I  was  coming,  I  suppose  there  would  n't 
have  been  any  one ! 

GIOVANELLI,  hi  an  attitude  of  the  most  respectful  admiration/^***^^---. 

How  can  I  sufficiently  thank  you  for  granting  me  this 
supreme  satisfaction  ?  DAISY 

That 's  a  very  fine  name  to  give  to  a  walk  on  the  Pincian. 
You  had  better  put  on  your  hat. 

GIOVANELLI. 

You  wish  to  escape  notice  ?  Perhaps  you  are  right. 
That  was  why  I  did  n't  come  to  Mrs.  Walker's,  whose  parties 
are  so  charming !  I  thought  that  if  we  slipped  away  to 
gether  it  might  attract  attention. 

DAISY. 

Do  you  mean  they  would  have  thought  it  improper  ?  They 
would  have  thought  it  still  more  improper  to  see  me  leaving 
alone  ;  so  I  did  n't  say  a  word  to  any  one  —  only  mother. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Ah,  you  told  your  admirable  parent  ?  She  is  with  us, 
then,  in  spirit ! 

She  wanted  to  get  away  herself,  if  that 's  what  you  mean ; 
but  she  did  n't  feel  as  if  she  could  leave  till  Eugenio  came 
for  her.  And  Eugenio  seems  to  have  so  much  to  do  to-day. 

GIOVANELLI. 

It  is  doubtless  in  your  interest.  He  is  a  very  faithful 
servant. 

DAISY. 

Well,  he  told  mother  she  must  stay  there  an  hour  :  he  had 
some  business  of  importance. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Let  us  hope  that  his  business  is  done,  and  that  the  patient 
Mrs.  Miller  is  released. 


104  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

DAISY. 

She  was  patient  enough  when  I  told  her  I  should  n't  come 
to  dinner. 

GIOVANELLI,  starting,  with  an  air  of  renewed  devotion. 

Am  I  to  understand  that  you  have  consented  to  my  little 

fantasy  ? 

DAISY. 

Of  dining  at  that  old  tavern,  where  the  artists  go  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

The  renowned  and  delightful  Falcone,  in  the  heart  of 
ancient  Home  !  You  are  a  person  of  delicious  surprises  ! 
The  other  day,  you  would  n't  listen  to  it. 

DAISY. 

I  don't  remember  the  other  day  :  all  I  know  is,  I  '11  go 
now.  (Aside.)  The  other  day  Mr.  Winterbourne  spoke  to 
me ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

My  dear  young  lady,  you  make  me  very  happy  ! 

DAISY. 
By  going  to  eat  macaroni  with  you  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

It  is  n't  the  macaroni  j  it  's  the  sentiment ! 

DAISY. 

The  sentiment  is  yours,  not  mine.  I  have  n't  any  :  it  's 
all  gone  ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

Well,  I  shan't  complain  if  I  find  myself  at  table  with  you 
in  a  dusky  corner  of  that  picturesque  little  cook-shop,  where 
the  ceiling  is  black,  and  the  walls  are  brown,  and  the  floor 
is  red  ! 

DAISY,  watching  him  as  he  describes  it. 

Oh  dear  !  it  must  be  very  lovely. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE   nV~" 


I 


^t 

GIOVANELLI. 

And  the  old  wine-flasks,  covered  with  plaited  straw,  are 
as  big  round  —  are  much  bigger  round  —  than  your  waist ! 

DAISY. 
That  's  just  what  I  want  to  see.     Let  's  go  there  at  once ! 

GIOVANELLI,  consulting  his  watch. 

Half-past  four.     Is  n't  that  rather  soon  to  dine  ? 

DAISY. 

We  can  go  on  foot  through  the  old  streets.  I  'm  dying  to 
see  them  on  foot. 

GIOVANELLI,  aside. 

That  will  be  cheaper  than  a  cab  !  (Aloud.)  We  should 
get  there  at  five  —  a  little  early  still.  Might  n't  we  first 
take  a  few  turns  round  this  place  ? 

DAISY,  after  a  pause. 

Oh,  yes,  if  you  like. 

GIOVANELLI,  aside. 

I  should  like  my  creditors  to  see !  (Aloud.)  Perhaps  it 
does  n't  suit  you  :  you  are  a  little  afraid. 

DAISY. 

What  should  I  be  afraid  of? 

GIOVANELLI,  smiling. 

Not  of  meeting  your  mother,  I  know  ! 

DAISY. 

If  I  had  been  afraid,  I  should  n't  have  come. 

GIOVANELLI. 

That  is  perfect.  But  let  me  say  one  thing :  you  have  a 
way  of  taking  the  meaning  from  the  favors  you  bestow. 

DAISY. 

The  meaning  ?     They  have  n't  got  any  meaning  ! 


106  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

GIOVANELLI,  vaguely. 

Ah  !       (Mrs.  Costello,  Miss  Durant,  and  Charles  Reverdy  appear.) 
DAISY,  looking  at  Mrs.  Costello  and  Miss  Durant. 

Unless  it  be  to   make   those  dreadful  women  glower! 
How  d'  ye  do,  Mr.  Reverdy  ? 

GIOVANELLI,  smiling. 

I  see  you  are  not  afraid !     (He  goes  out  with  her.) 


SCENE  SIXTH. 

MRS.  COSTELLO,  MISS  DURANT,  CHARLES  REVERDY. 
MISS  DURANT. 

She  has  grown  to  look  very  hard. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

The  gentleman  looks  soft,  and  that  makes  up  for  it. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Do  you  call  him  a  gentleman  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Ah,  compared  with  the  courier  !     She  has  a  different  one 
every  time. 

REVERDY,  with  the  camp-stool,  aside. 

A  different  one  every  time,  but  never,  alas,  this  one  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

There  's  one  comfort  in  it  all :  she  has  given  up  Frederick. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Ah,  she  goes  too  far  even  for  him ! 

REVERDY. 

Too  far  with  other  men  :  that  's  the  trouble  !     With  him 
she  went  as  far  as  the  Castle  of  Chillon. 


ACT  SECOND:   SCENE  SIXTH.  107 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Don't  recall  that  episode.  Heaven  only  knows  what  hap 
pened  there. 

REVERDY. 

I  know  what  happened :  he  was  awfully  sold.  That  's 
why  he  let  you  carry  him  off. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Much  good  it  did  us  !  I  'm  very  much  disappointed  in 
Frederick. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  can't  imagine  what  you  expected  of  him. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  expected  him  to  fall  in  love  with  you  —  or  to  marry  you, 
at  any  rate. 

MISS    DURANT. 

You  would  have  been  still  more  disappointed,  then,  if  I 
had  refused  him. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  dryly. 

I  should  have  been  surprised. 

REVERDY,  sentimentally. 

Would  you  have  refused  him,  Miss  Durant  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 

Yes,  on  purpose  to  spite  you.  You  don't  understand  ? 
It  takes  a  man  to  be  stupid  !  If  Mr.  Winterbourne  were  to 
marry  some  one  else,  it  would  leave  Miss  Daisy  Miller  free. 

REVERDY. 

Free  to  walk  about  with  the  native  population  ?  She 
seems  to  be  free  enough  already.  Mrs.  Costello,  the  camp- 
stool  is  at  your  service. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Give  it  to  me,  and  I  will  go  and  sit  in  the  shade.    Excuse 


108  DAISY  MILLER :   A  COMEDY. 

me,  I  would  rather  carry  it  myself.     (Taking  the  camp-stool,  aside  to 
Miss  Durant.)     If  he  proposes,  mind  you  accept  him. 

MISS    DURANT. 

If  who  proposes  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Our  young  companion  !  He  is  manoeuvring  to  get  rid 
of  me.  He  has  nothing  but  his  expectations,  but  his  expec 
tations  are  of  the  best.  (She  marches  away  with  her  camp-stool,  and 
seats  herself  at  a  distance,  where,  with  her  eyeglass  raised,  she  appears  to  look  at 
what  goes  on  in  another  part  of  the  garden.) 

MISS    DURANT,  aside. 

Am  I  one  of  his  expectations  ?  Fortunately,  I  don't  need 
to  marry  for  money.  (Aloud.)  Cousin  Louisa  is  furious  with 
me  for  not  being  more  encouraging  to  Mr.  Winterbourne. 
I  don't  know  what  she  would  have  liked  me  to  do  ! 

REVERDY. 

You  have  been  very  proper,  very  dignified. 

MISS    DURANT. 

That  's  the  way  I  was  brought  up.  I  never  liked  him, 
from  the  first. 

REVERDY. 

Oh,  he 's  a  stupid  stick  ! 

MISS   DURANT. 

I  don't  say  he  's  stupid  —  and  he  's  very  good  looking. 

REVERDY. 

As  good  looking  as  a  man  can  be  in  whom  one  feature  — 
the  most  expressive — has  been  entirely  omitted.  He  has 
got  no  eyes  in  his  head. 

MISS    DURANT. 

No  eyes  ? 

REVERDY. 

To  see  that  that  poor  little  creature  is  in  love  with  him. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  SIXTH;  109 

MISS    DURANT. 

She  has  a  queer  way  of  showing  it. 

REVERDY. 

Ah,  they  always  have  queer  ways  ! 

MISS    DURANT. 

He  sees  it,  but  he  does  n't  care. 

REVERDY. 

That 's  still  worse,  —  the  omission  not  of  a  feature,  but  of 
an  organ  (tapping  his  heart  and  smiling),  the  seat  of  our  purest  and 
highest  joys!  Mjss  DCBANT)  aside. 

Cousin  Louisa  was  right !  (Aloud.)  Do  you  mean  that 
he  has  no  heart?  EEVEBDY, 

If  he  had  as  big  a  one  as  the  rosette  on  your  shoe,  would 
he  leave  me  here  to  do  all  the  work  ? 

MISS    DURANT,  looking  at  her  foot. 

The  rosette  on  my  shoe  is  rather  big. 

REVERDY,  looking  as  well. 

It  is  n't  so  much  the  size  of  the  rosette  as  the  smallness 
of  the  shoe  ! 

MISS    DURANT,  aside. 

Cousin  Louisa  is  certainly  right !  (Aloud,  smiling.)  Yours, 
I  suppose,  is  bigger  than  that. 

REVERDY. 

My  shoe  ?     I  should  think  so  —  rather ! 

MISS   DURANT. 

Dear,  no  !  I  mean  your  heart.  Though  I  don't  think 
it 's  at  all  nice  in  you  to  complain  of  being  left  with  us. 

REVERDY. 

When  I  am  left  with  you,  I  don't  complain ;  but  when  I 

am  left  with  her  !      (indicating  Mrs.  Costello.) 


110  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Well,  you  are  not  with  her  now. 

REVERDY. 

Ah,  now  it 's  very  pleasant.  Only  she  has  got  the  camp- 
stool. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Do  you  want  it  for  yourself  ? 

REVERDY. 

Yes ;  I  have  been  carrying  it  for  the  last  six  months,  and 
I  feel  rather  awkward  without  it.  It  gives  one  confidence  to 
have  something  in  one's  hand. 

MISS   DURANT. 

Good  heavens  !     What  do  you  want  to  do  ? 

REVERDY. 

I  want  to  make  you  a  little  speech. 

MISS    DURANT. 

You  will  do  very  well  as  you  are. 

REVERDY. 

I  '11  try  it.  (in  an  attitude.)  Six  months  ago  I  had  moments 
of  rebellion,  but  to-day  I  have  come  to  love  my  chains  ! 

Accordingly  (Mrs.  Costello  starts  up  and  hurries  forward,  the  camp-stool 

in  her  hand.)     By  Jove  !    if  she  hears  me,  she  '11  rivet  them 
faster. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  seizing  Miss  Durant's  arm. 

My  poor,  dear  child,  whom  do  you  think  I  've  seen  ? 

REVERDY. 

By  your  expression,  the  ghost  of  Julius  Caesar  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

The  Russian  woman  —  the  princess  —  whom  we  saw  last 
summer. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Well,  my  dear  cousin,  she  won't  eat  us  up  ! 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  SIXTH.  Ill 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

No,  but  she  '11  eat  Frederick ! 

REVERDY. 

On  the  contrary,  her  appetite  for  Frederick  is  small.  Don't 
you  remember  that,  last  summer,  she  left  the  hotel  as  soon 
as  he  arrived  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

That  was  only  a  feint,  to  put  us  off  the  scent.  He  has 
been  in  secret  correspondence  with  her,  and  their  meeting 
here  is  prearranged. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  don't  know  why  you  call  their  correspondence  secret, 
when  he  was  always  going  to  the  post-office ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Ah,  but  you  can't  tell  what  he  did  there !  Frederick  is 
very  deep. 

REVERDY. 

There 's  nothing  secret,  at  any  rate,  about  her  arrival  here. 
She  alighted  yesterday  at  our  own  hotel,  in  the  most  public 
manner,  with  the  landlord  and  all  the  waiters  drawn  up  to 
receive  her.  It  did  n't  occur  to  me  to  mention  it. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  don't  really  know  what  you  are  with  us  for  ! 

MISS    DURANT. 

Oh,  Cousin  Louisa,  he  is  meant  for  better  things  than 
that ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  to  Miss  Durant,  aside. 

Do  you  mean  that  he  has  proposed  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 

No,  but  he  was  just  going  to. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  disappointed. 

Ah,  you  have  told  me  that  before  ! 


112  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Because  you  never  give  him  time. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Does  he  want  three  hours  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 

No,  but  he  wants  three  minutes  ! 

REVERDY,  who  has  strolled  away,  observiilg  them,  aside. 

Happy  thought,  to  make  them  fight  about  me !  Mutual 
destruction  would  ensue,  and  I  should  be  master  of  the 
situation.  (Aloud.)  I  am  only  a  man,  dear  Madam ;  I  am 
not  a  newspaper. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

If  you  only  were,  we  could  stop  our  subscription  !  And, 
as  a  proof  of  what  I  say,  here  comes  Frederick,  to  look  after 

his  Russian.       (Winterbourne  comes  in,  with  Mrs.  Walker.) 
REVERDY. 

With  the  wife  of  the  consul,  to  look  after  him  ! 


SCENE   SEVENTH. 

MRS.  COSTELLO,  MISS  DURANT,  REVERDY,  WINTERBOURNE, 
MRS.  WALKER. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

Oh,  you  dreadful  people,  what  are  you  doing  here,  when 
you  ought  to  be  at  my  reception  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

We  were  just  thinking  of  going  ;  it 's  so  very  near. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

Only  round  the  corner!     But  there  are  better  reasons 
than  that. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  SEVENTH.       113 
MISS  DURANT. 

There  can  hardly  be  a  very  good  one,  when  you  yourself 
have  come  away ! 

MRS.    WALKER. 

You  would  never  imagine  what  has  brought  me  !  I  have 
come  in  pursuit  of  little  Daisy  Miller. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

And  you  have  brought  my  nephew  to  help  you  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

A  walk  in  such  charming  company  is  a  privilege  not  to  be 
lost.  Perhaps,  dear  aunt,  you  can  give  us  news. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Of  that  audacious  and  desperate  person?  Dear  me,  yes. 
We  met  her  just  now,  on  the  arm  of  a  dreadful  man. 

MRS.   WALKER. 

Oh,  we  are  too  late  then.     She  is  lost ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

It  seems  to  me  she  was  lost  long  ago,  and  (significantly,  at 
Winterbourue)  that  this  is  not  the  first  rendezvous  she  has 
taken. 

WINTERBOURNE,  smiling. 

If  it  does  her  no  more  harm  than  the  others,  Mrs.  Walker 
had  better  go  back  to  her  teapot ! 

REVERDY,  to  Miss  Durant. 

That 's  an  allusion  to  the  way  he  was  sold  ! 

MRS.    WALKER. 

She  left  my  house,  half  an  hour  ago,  without  a  word  to 
any  one  but  her  idiot  of  a  mother,  who  thought  it  all  right 
that  she  should  walk  off  to  the  Pincian  to  meet  the  hand 
some  Giovanelli.  I  only  discovered  her  flight  just  now,  by 
a  lady  who  was  coming  in  at  the  moment  that  Miss  Daisy, 

8 


114  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

shaking  out  her  little  flounces  and  tossing  up  her  little  head, 
tripped  away  from  my  door,  to  fall  into  the  arms  of  a  cava- 

MISS    DURANT. 

Into  his  arms  ?     Ah,  Mrs.  Walker  ! 

MRS.    WALKER. 

My  dear  young  lady,  with  these  unscrupulous  foreigners 
one  can  never  be  sure.  You  know  as  well  as  I  what  becomes 
of  the  reputation  of  a  girl  who  shows  herself  in  this  place, 
at  this  hour,  with  all  the  rank  and  fashion  of  Rome  about 
her,  with  no  more  responsible  escort  than  a  gentleman  re 
nowned  for  his  successes ! 

REVERDY,  to  Miss  Durant 

It  's  as  if  you  were  here  with  me,  you  know ! 

MRS.   WALKER. 

This  idea  came  over  me  with  a  kind  of  horror,  and  I  de 
termined  to  save  her  if  I  could. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

There  is  nothing  left  of  her  to  save  ! 

MRS.    WALKER. 

There  is  always  something  left,  and  my  representative 
position  makes  it  a  duty.  My  rooms  were  filled  with 
guests  —  a  hundred  and  fifty  people  —  but  I  put  on  my  bon 
net  and  seized  Mr.  Winterbourne's  arm. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  can  testify  that  I  did  n't  wince  !  I  quite  agree  with 
you  as  to  the  importance  of  looking  her  up.  Foreigners 
never  understand. 

REVERDY,  aside. 

My  dear  fellow,  if  they  understand  no  better  than  you !  .  .  . 

MRS.    WALKER. 

What  I  want  of  you  dear  people  is  to  go  and  entertain 


ACT  SECOND :  SCENE  EIGHTH.  115 

my  visitors.     Console  them  for  my  absence,  and  tell  them  I 
shall  be  back  in  five  minutes. 

MISS    DURANT. 

It  will  be  very  nice  to  give  a  reception  without  any  trouble. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Without  any  trouble  —  scarcely  !     But  there  is  nothing 
we  would  n't  do  — 

MRS.   WALKER. 

Por  the  representative  of  one's  country  !     Be  charming, 

then,   as   yOU   can    SO  Well.      (Seeing  Daisy  and  Giovanelli  come  in.)       I 

shall  not  be  long,  for  by  the  mercy  of  Heaven  the  child  is 
guided  to  this  spot ! 

REVERDY. 

If  you  think  you  have  only  to  pick  her  up,  we  won't  wait 

for  you  !      (He  goes  out  with  Mrs.  Costello  and  Miss  Durant.) 


SCENE  EIGHTH. 
MRS.  WALKER,  WINTERBOURNE,  DAISY,  GIOVANELLI. 

WINTERBOTJRNE,  as  the  two  others  slowly  come  in  together,  not  at  first  see 
ing  him. 

We  shall  have  a  siege :   she  won't  give  him  up  for  the 

asking. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

We  ^must  divide  our  forces,  then.     You  will  deal  with 
Daisy. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  would  rather  attack  the  gentleman. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

No,  no ;  there  '11  be  trouble.     Mr.  Giovanelli,  I  should 
like  a  little  conversation  with  you. 

GIOVANELLI,  starting,  and  coming  forward;  very  polite. 

You  do  me  great  honor,  Madame  ! 


116  DAISY  MILLER:  A   COMEDY. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

I  wish  to  scold  you  for  not  coming  to  me  to-day  ;  but  to 
spare  your  blushes,  it  must  be  in  private,     (strolls  away  with  him, 

out  of  sight.) 

DAISY,  aside. 

They  have  come  to  take  me  away.     Ah,  they  are  very 
cruel ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  had  no  chance  to  speak  to  you  at  Mrs.  Walker's,  and 
I  have  come  to  make  up  for  my  loss. 

DAISY,  looking  at  him  a  moment. 

What  is  Mrs.  Walker  doing  here !  Why  does  n't  she 
stay  with  her  guests  ?  ^ 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  brought  her  away  —  to  do  just  what  she  has  done. 

DAISY. 
To  take  away  Mr.  Giovanelli  ?     I  don't  understand  you. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

A  great  many  people  think  that  you  understand,  but  that 
you  don't  care. 

DAISY. 
I  don't  care  what  people  think.     I  have  done  no  harm. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  's  exactly  what  I  say  —  you  don't  care.  But  I  wish 
you  would  care  a  little,  for  your  friends  are  very  much 
frightened.  When  Mrs.  Walker  ascertained  that  you  had 
left  her  house  alone,  and  had  come  to  meet  a  gentleman 
here — here,  where  all  Rome  assembles  at  this  hour  to  amuse 
itself,  and  where  you  would  be  watched  and  criticised  and 
calumniated  —  when  Mrs.  Walker  made  this  discovery,  she 
said  but  three  words  —  "To  the  rescue!"  But  she  took 
her  plunge,  as  if  you  had  been  drowning. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  EIGHTH.  117 

DAISY. 

And  you  jumped  overboard,  too  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh  dear,  no ;  I  'm  standing  on  the  brink.     I  only  inter 
pret  her  sentiments.     I  don't  express  my  own. 
DAISY. 

They  would  interest  me  more  than  Mrs.  Walker's  ;  but  I 
don't  see  what  either  of  you  have  to  do  with  me. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

We  admire  you  very  much,  and  we  hate  to  see  you  mis 
judged. 

DAISY. 

I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  and  I  don't  know  what  you 
think  I  want  to  do. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  have  n't  the  least  idea  about  that.     All  I  mean  is  that 
if  you  could  see,  as  I  see  it,  how  little  it  's  the  custom  here 
to  do  what  you  do,  and  how  badly  it  looks  to  fly  in  the  face 
of  the  custom,  you  would  be  a  little  more  on  your  guard. 
DAISY. 

I  know  nothing  about  the  custom.  I  'm  an  American ; 
I  'm  not  one  of  these  people. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

In  that  case,  you  would  behave  differently.  Your  being 
an  American  is  just  the  point.  You  are  a  very  conspicuous 
American,  thanks  to  your  attractions,  to  your  charms,  to  the 
publicity  of  your  life.  Such  people,  with  the  best  intentions 
in  the  world,  are  often  very  indiscreet ;  and  it 's  to  save  the 
reputation  of  her  compatriots  that  the  fairest  and  brightest 
of  American  girls  should  sacrifice  a  little  of  her  independ 
ence. 


118  DAISY   MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

DAISY. 

Look  here,  Mr.  Winterbourne,  you  make  too  much  fuss : 
that 's  what 's  the  matter  with  you ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  I  make  enough  to  persuade  you  to  go  home  with  Mrs. 
Walker,  my  highest  ambition  will  be  gratified. 

DAISY. 

I  think  you  are  trying  to  mystify  me :  I  can  tell  that  by 
your  language.  One  would  never  think  you  were  the  same 
person  who  went  with  me  to  that  castle. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  not  quite  the  same,  but  I  have  a  good  deal  in  com 
mon  with  him.  Now,  Mr.  Giovanelli  does  n't  resemble  that 
person  at  all. 

DAISY,  coldly. 

I  don't  know  why  you  speak  to  me  about  Mr.  Giovanelli. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Because  —  because  Mrs.  Walker  asked  me  to. 

DAISY. 
It  would  be  better  if  she  should  do  it  herself. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That 's  exactly  what  I  told  her ;  but  she  had  an  odd  fancy 
that  I  have  a  kind  of  influence  with  you. 

DAISY,  with  expression. 

Poor  Mrs.  Walker  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Poor  Mrs.  Walker  !  She  does  n't  know  that  no  one  has 
any  influence  with  you  —  that  you  do  nothing  in  the  world 
but  what  pleases  yourself. 

DAISY. 

Whom,  then,  am  I  to  please  ?  The  people  that  think 
such  dreadful  things  of  me  ?  I  don't  even  understand  what 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  EIGHTH.      119 

they  think  !  What  do  you  mean,  about  my  reputation  ?  I 
have  n't  got  any  reputation !  If  people  are  so  cruel  and 
wicked,  I  am  sure  I  would  rather  not  know  it.  In  America 
they  let  me  alone,  and  no  one  ran  after  me,  like  Mrs.  Walker. 
It  's  natural  I  should  like  the  people  who  seem  to  like  me, 
and  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  go  round  with  me.  The 
others  may  say  what  they  like.  I  can't  understand  Italian, 
and  I  should  never  hear  of  it  if  you  did  n't  come  and 
translate. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It 's  not  only  the  Italians  —  it  's  the  Americans. 

DAISY. 

Do  you  mean  your  aunt  and  your  cousin  ?  I  don't  know 
why  I  should  make  myself  miserable  for  them  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  mean  every  one  who  has  ever  had  the  very  questionable 
advantage  of  making  your  acquaintance  —  only  to  be  sub 
jected  to  the  torment  of  being  unable  either  to  believe  in  you 
or  to  doubt  of  you. 

DAISY. 

To  doubt  of  me  ?     You  are  very  strange ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  are  stranger  still.  But  I  did  n't  come  here  to  reason 
with  you  :  that  would  be  vain,  for  we  speak  a  different 
language,  and  we  should  n't  understand  each  other.  I  only 
came  to  say  to  you,  in  the  most  respectful  manner,  that  if 
you  should  consult  your  best  interests  you  would  go  home 
with  Mrs.  Walker.  * 

DAISY. 

Do  you  think  I  had  such  a  lovely  time  there,  half  an  hour 
ago,  when  you  did  n't  so  much  as  look  at  me  ? 


120  DAISY   MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  I  had  spoken  to  you,  would  you  have  stayed  ? 

DAISY. 

After  I  had  an  engagement  here  ?     (with  a  little  laugh.)     I 
must  say,  you  expect  a  great  deal ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  looking  at  her  a  moment. 

What    they  say   is    true  —  you    are   a   thorough-going 
coquette ! 

(Mrs.  Walker  reappears,  with  Giovanelli.) 
DAISY. 

You  speak  too  much  of  what  they  say.     To  escape  from 
you,  I  '11  go  anywhere  ! 

MRS.    WALKER,  to  Wintcrbourne,  while  Giovanelli  speaks  to  Daisy. 

He  's  very  accommodating,  when  you  tell  him  that  if  Mrs. 
Miller  gets  frightened  she  will  start  off  for  America. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It  's  more  than  I  can  say  of  Miss  Daisy  ! 

MRS.    WALKER. 

Have  you  had  no  success  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  have  had  my  ears  boxed  ! 

MRS.    WALKER,  to  Daisy. 

My  precious  child,  you  escaped  from  my  drawing-room 
before  I  had  half  the  talk  we  wanted. 

DAISY. 
Are  they  all  waiting  there  to  see  me  brought  back  ? 

MRS.    WALKER. 

Oh  dear,  no  ;  they  have  plenty  to  think  about  —  with  Mrs. 
Costello  and  Miss  Durant. 


ACT  SECOND:   SCENE  EIGHTH.  121 

DAISY. 

Ah,  those  ladies  are  there  ?  Then  I  certainly  shan't  go 
back. 

MRS.   WALKER,  alarmed. 

Husli !     They  're  relations  of  Mr.  "Winterbourne. 

DAISY. 

All  the  more  reason  for  my  hating  them ! 

MRS.   WALKER,  to  Winterbourne. 

You  must  excuse  her ;  she  is  very  wicked  to-day  !  (TO 
Daisy.)  If  you  won't  go  home,  then  I  '11  stay  with  you  here. 
Mr.  Giovanelli,  you  promised  me  you  would  go  to  my  house. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  am  at  the  orders  of  Mademoiselle. 

DAISY. 
You  may  do  what  you  please  till  dinner-time. 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Gracious  heavens !  is  she  going  to  dine  with  him?  (Aloud, 
to  Daisy.)  We  were  interrupted,  but  I  have  a  great  deal  more 
to  say. 

DAISY. 

More  of  the  same  sort  ?  It  will  be  a  pleasure  to  hear 
that! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

What  's  coming  is  a  great  deal  better.  —  Do  you  dine  at 
your  table  d'hote  ? 

DAISY. 
Oh,  yes.     Eandolph  likes  the  table  d'hote. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  will  ask  for  a  place  there  this  evening,  and,  with  your 
permission,  it  shall  be  next  to  yours. 

DAISY. 

I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  am  not  sure  of  this  evening. 


122 


DAISY  MILLER :   A  COMEDY. 


WINTERBOURNE,  gravely. 

That  's  a  great  disappointment  to  me.     (A  short  silence.) 

MRS.    WALKER,  to  Giovanelli. 

You  promised  me  you  would  go  to  my  house  ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

As  a  man  of  honor,  then,  I  must  go.     But  I  assure  you, 
Mademoiselle  (to  Daisy,)  that  I  soon  return. 

DAISY. 
As   SOOn   as   you   like  !      (Giovauelli  walks  away.    To  Winterbourne.) 

Can't  you  come  some  other  night  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  yes,  by  waiting  a  little.     But  with  the  uncertainty  of 
your  stay  in  Eome,  this  would  be  always  something  gained. 

DAISY. 
What  will  you  do  after  dinner  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

With  your  kind  permission,  I  will  adjourn  with  you  to 
your  mother's  sitting-room. 

DAISY. 
You  are  very  devoted,  all  of  a  sudden  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Better  late  than  never ! 

DAISY. 
You  are  just  as  you  were  at  that  castle ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

So  are  you  —  at  this  moment.     We  can  dream  we  are  in 
that  happy  place ! 

DAISY,  aside. 

He  can  do  with  me  what  he  will.     (Aloud,  quickly.)     I  '11  tell 
them  to  keep  you  a  seat ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  shall  be  indebted  to  you  forever ! 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  NINTH.       123 

DAISY. 

Oh,  if  I  don't  see  about  it,  they  '11  put  you  at  the  other 
end. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Next  you  —  that 's  the  point. 

DAISY. 

Between  me  and  Randolph  !     At  half  past  six ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

At  half  past  six. 

MRS.   WALKER,  to  Winterbourne. 

You  can  go  about  your  business.     I  have  something  to 
say  to  her  alone. 

DAISY. 

Don't  forget  half  past  six ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Never  in  the  world.     At  half  past  six !     (Walks  away.) 

MRS.    WALKER,  alone  with  Daisy. 

And  now  may  I  be  permitted  to  inquire  whether  you  had 
arranged  to  dine  with  that  Italian  ? 

DAISY,  smiling. 

In  the  heart  of  ancient  Home  !     But  don't  tell  Mr.  Win 
terbourne  what  I  gave  up  ! 

MRS.    WALKER,  aside. 

I  '11  get  you  out  of  Rome  to-morrow  !     (Aloud.)     I  must 

show  you  to  the  crowd  —  with  me.      (Goes  out  leading  Daisy.) 


SCENE  NINTH. 
REVERDY,  RANDOLPH. 

REVERDY,  coming  in  just  as  the  others  pass  out,  and  completing  Mrs.  Walker's 
phrase. 

The  wife  of  the  American  consul !     The  American  consul 
is  all  very  well,  but  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  '11  carry  on  the  busi- 


124  DAISY  MILLER:  A   COMEDY. 

ness !  It 's  quite  enough  to  do  odd  jobs  for  Mrs.  Costello, 
without  taking  service  at  the  consulate.  Fifty  carriages 
before  the  door,  and  five  hundred  people  up-stairs.  My 
companions  may  get  up  if  they  can !  It 's  the  first  time  to 
day  I  've  had  a  moment  for  a  quiet  smoke.  (Lights  a  cigar,  and 

while  he  is  doing  so  Randolph  comes  in.)      0    Lord,    the   Old    Man    of 

the  Sea ! 

RANDOLPH,  planted  before  Reverdy. 

I  say,  Mr.  Reverdy,  suppose  you  offer  me  a  cigar. 

REVERDY. 

My  poor  child,  my  cigars  are  as  big  as  yourself ! 

RANDOLPH. 

There 's  nothing  fit  to  smoke  over  here.  You  can't  get 
'em  as  you  can  in  America. 

REVERDY. 

Yes,  they  're  better  in  America  (smoking) ;  but  they  cost  a 
good  deal  more. 

RANDOLPH. 

I  don't  care  what  I  pay.     I  've  got  all  the  money  I  want. 

REVERDY. 

Don't  spend  it ;  keep  it  till  you  grow  up. 

RANDOLPH. 

Oh,  I  ain't  going  to  grow  up.  I  've  been  this  way  for 
ever  so  long.  Mother  brought  me  over  to  see  if  I  would  n't 
start,  but  I  have  n't  started  an  inch.  You  can't  start  in  this 
old  country. 

REVERDY. 

The  Eomans  were  rather  tall. 

RANDOLPH. 

I  don't  care  for  the  Romans.  A  child  's  as  good  as  a 
man. 

REVERDY. 

The  future  of  democracy  !  You  remind  me  of  the  in 
fant  Hannibal. 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  NINTH.        125 

RANDOLPH. 

There  's  one  good  thing  :  so  long  as  I  'm  little,  my  mother 
can't  see  me.  She  's  looking  all  round. 

REVERDY. 

I  was  going  to  ask  you  if  she  allowed  you  to  mingle  in 
this  human  maze. 

RANDOLPH. 

Mother  's  in  the  carriage,  but  I  jumped  out. 

REVERDY. 

Imprudent  little  man!     At  the  risk   of  breaking  your 

RANDOLPH. 

Oh,  we  were  crawling  along  —  we  haven't  American 
trotters.  I  saw  you  walking  about,  and  when  mother  was  n't 
looking  I  just  dropped.  As  soon  as  she  missed  me,  she 
began  to  howl!  ^^ 

I  am  sorry  to  be  the  occasion  of  a  family  broil. 

RANDOLPH.  * 

She  thinks  I  am  run  over;  she  has  begun  to  collect  a 
crowd. 

REVERDY. 

You  wicked  little  person  !  I  must  take  you  straight  back 
to  her. 

RANDOLPH. 

I  thought  you  might  like  to  know  where  my  sister  is. 

REVERDY. 

At  the  present  moment  my  anxiety  is  about  your  mother. 

RANDOLPH. 

Daisy 's  gone  on  a  bender.  If  you  '11  give  me  a  cigar,  I  '11 
put  you  up  to  it. 

REVERDY. 

You  're  a  vulgar  little  boy.  Take  me  instantly  to  your 
mother. 


126  DAISY  MILIEU :   A  COMEDY. 

RANDOLPH,  very  sarcastic. 

Would  n't  you  like  to  carry  me  on  your  back  ? 

REVERDY. 

If  you  don't  come,  I  '11  take  you  under  my  arm.     (starts  to 

seize  him.) 

RANDOLPH,  dodging. 

I  won't  come,  then  ! 

REVERDY. 

Damn  the  little  wretch !      I   must  relieve   his  mother. 

(Makes  another  attempt  to  capture  Randolph,  who  escapes,  while  Reverdy  gives 
chase,  and  they  disappear. ) 


SCENE   TENTH. 

WINTERBOURNE,  THEN  MADAME  DE  KATKOFF. 
WINTERBOURNE,  coming  in  alone. 

Remarkable  family,  the  Millers !  Mrs.  Miller,  standing 
up  in  her  carriage,  in  the  centre  of  a  crowd  of  Italians,  and 
chattering  to  them  in  her  native  tongue.  She  falls  upon  my 
neck  when  she  sees  me,  and  announces  that  the  gifted  Ran 
dolph  is  no  more.  He  has  tumbled  out  of  the  vehicle,  and 
been  trampled  to  death !  We  institute  a  search  for  his  re 
mains,  and  as  it  proves  fruitless  she  bogs  me  to  come  and 
look  for  him  here.  (Looking  round  him.)  I  don't  perceive  an  v 
remains !  He  has  mingled  in  the  giddy  throng,  and  the 
giddy  throng  may  bring  him  back  !  It 's  the  business  of  that 

ruffian  of  a  Courier  !      (Seeing  Madame  dc  Katkoff,  aside.)      Is  she  still 

here?     (Aloud.)     To  meet  you -again  is  better  fortune  than  I 
hoped. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,    strolling  in  slowly,  with  an  air  of  deliberation, 
and  standing  a  moment  thoughtful. 

Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  dine  with  me  to-night  ? 


ACT  SECOND:    SCENE  TENTH.  127 

WINTERBOURNE,  startled. 

To  dine  with  you  to-night  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  stare  as  if  I  were  a  ghost !     It 's  very  simple :  to 
dine  with  me  to-night,  at  seven  o'clock,  at  the  Hotel   de 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

It 's  a  little  awkward.    (Aloud.)     Do  you  dine  at  the  table 

d'hote?  MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

At  the  table  d'hote,  with  that  rabble  of  tourists  ?     I  dine 
in  my  own  apartments. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  supposed  you  had  left  the  Pincian ;  I  had  no  idea  you 
were  lingering. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Apparently  I  had  a  purpose,  which  you  seem  quite  unable 
to  appreciate.     You  are  very  slow  in  accepting ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

To  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  I  have  made  an  engagement. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

An  engagement?     A  moment   ago   you  were   dying   to 
spend  the  evening  with  me. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

A  moment  ago  you  would  n't  listen  to  me. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  after  a  pause. 

My  dear  friend,  you  are  very  stupid,     A  woman  does  n't 
confess  the  truth  at  the  first  summons  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  are  very  strange.     I  accepted  an  invitation  just  after 
we  parted. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Send  word  you  can't  come. 


128  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It  was  from  the  young  lady  you  recommended  me  so 
strongly  to  turn  my  attention  to. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

All,  she  gives  invitations  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  confess  I  asked  for  this  one.  They  are  also  at  the 
Hotel  de  Paris,  and  they  dine  at  the  table  d'hote. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

A  charming  place  to  carry  on  a  courtship ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It 's  not  a  courtship  —  however  much  I  may  have  wished 
to  please  you. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Your  wish  to  please  me  has  suddenly  diminished.  Ap 
parently,  I  am  to  understand  that  you  refuse  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Even  when  you  are  kind,  there  's  something  cruel  in  it ! 
—  I  will  dine  with  you  with  pleasure. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Send  word,  then,  to  your  little  American. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Yes,  I  will  send  word.  (Aside.)  That's  uncommonly 
rough  !  (Aloud.)  After  dinner,  I  suppose,  you  will  go  to 
the  opera. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 
I  don't  know  about  the  opera.       (Looking  at  him  a  moment.)       It 

will  be  a  splendid  night.     How  should  you  like  a  moonlight 
drive? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

A  moonlight  drive  —  with  you?  It  seems  to  me  you 
mock  me ! 


ACT  SECOND:   SCENE   TENTH.  129 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  in  the  same  tone. 

To  wander  through  the  old  streets,  when  everything  is 
still;  to  see  the  solemn  monuments  wrapped  up  in  their 
shadows  ;  to  watch  the  great  fountains  turn  to  silver  in  the 
moonshine  —  that  has  always  been  a  dream  of  mine  !  We 
will  try  it  to-night. 

WINTERBOURNE,  affected  by  her  tone. 

We  will  see  the  great  square  of  St.  Peter's ;  we  will  dip 
our  hands  in  the  Fountain  of  Trevi !  You  must  be  strangely 
beautiful  in  the  moonlight. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  don't  know.     You  shall  see. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Wliat  wiU  you  do  with  the  Russian  ambassador? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Send  him  about  his  business. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

An  ambassador !     For  me  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Don't  force  me  to  say  it ;  I  shall  make  you  too  vain. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  not  used  to  being  treated  so,  and  I  can't  help  feeling 
that  it  may  be  only  a  refinement  of  cruelty. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

If  I  have  been  cruel  before,  it  was  in  self-defence.  I  have 
been  sorely  troubled,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  be  consistent. 
Women  are  never  so  —  especially  women  who  love  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  ask  no  questions ;  I  only  thank  you. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

At  seven  o'clock,  then. 

9 


130  DAISY   MILLER:    A   COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  are  very  strange;  but  you  are  only  the  more  ador 
able.     At  seven  o'clock ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You   are  not  to   come  with  me ;   my  carriage   is   there. 

(Aside,  as  she  leaves  him.)       IllgeilUOUS  young  man  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  alone,  standing  a  moment  in  thought. 

"  Women  are   never  consistent  —  especially  women  who 
love !  "     I  have  waited  three  years,  but  it  was  worth  waiting 

for  !       (Mrs.  Walker  comes  in  with  Daisy,  without  his  seeing  them-) 


SCENE  ELEVENTH. 

WINTERBOURNE,    MRS.    WALKER,   DAISY,  THEN   EUGENIO 
AND  GIOVANELLI. 

DAISY. 

Well,  Mr.  Winterbourne,  is  that  the  way  you  look  for  my 
brother?  You  had  better  not  come  to  dinner  unless  you 
find  him. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  was  just  wondering  which  way  I  had  better  go. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

Mrs.  Miller  has  pressed  us  into  the  service,  and  she  wants 
every  one  to  go  in  a  different  direction.  But  I  prefer 
(significantly)  that  Daisy  and  I  should  stick  together. 

DAISY,  happily. 

Oh,  I  don't  care  now.     You  may  take  me  anywhere  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  aside. 

Poor  little  thing !  And  I  have  got  to  disappoint  her ! 
(Aloud.)  I  suppose  I  had  better  separate  from  you,  then. 


ACT  SECOND:   SCENE  ELEVENTH.  131 

EUGENIC,  arriving  hastily. 

Mr.  Kandolph  has  been  found  —  by  Mr.  Eeverdy !  (TO 
Daisy.)  If  I  leave  your  mother  a  moment,  a  misfortune  is 
sure  to  arrive. 

MRS.    WALKER,  aside. 

The  misfortune,  indeed,  is  his  being  found  !  (TO  Daisy.) 
If  you  will  join  your  mother.  I  will  go  back  to  my  guests 
(seeing  Giovaneiii)  —  whom  Mr.  Giovanelli  has  already  deserted. 

GIOVANELLI,  coming  in. 

Your  guests  have  deserted  me,  Madame.  They  have  left 
your  house  in  a  caravan,  unable  to  support  your  absence. 

MRS.    WALKER,  to  Daisy. 

I  have  offended  all  my  friends  for  you,  my  dear.  You 
ought  to  be  grateful. 

DAISY. 

The  reason  they  left  was  not  because  you  came  away,  but 
because  you  did  n't  bring  me  back.  They  wanted  to  glare 
at  me. 

GIOVANELLI,  with  a  little  laugh. 

They  glared  at  me  a  good  deal ! 

MRS.    WALKER. 

I  will  admit  that  they  don't  like  you.  (TO  Daisy.)  Let  me 
place  you  in  your  mother's  hands. 

EUGENIO,  with  importance. 

I  will  take  charge  of  my  young  lady,  Madame. 

WINTERBOURNE,  to  Daisy. 

Before  you  go,  just  let  me  say  a  word. 

DAISY. 

As  many  as  you  please  —  only  you  frighten  me  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  rather  frightened  myself.  I  am  very  much  afraid  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  dine  to-riight. 


132  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

DAISY. 

Not  be  able  —  after  your  promise  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It's  very  true  I  promised,  and  I  am  greatly  ashamed. 
But  a  most  unexpected  obstacle  has  sprung  up.  I  am 
obliged  to  take  back  my  word  —  I  am  exceedingly  sorry. 

MRS.   WALKER,  in  a  low  voice  to  Winterbourne. 

Ah,  my  dear  sir,  you  're  making  a  mess  ! 

DAISY. 
Your  obstacle  must  have  come  very  quickly. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Only  five  minutes  ago. 

EUGENIO,  aside. 

The  Katkoff's  as  good  as  her  word! 

DAISY,  much  agitated. 

Well,  Mr.  Winterbourne,  I  can  only  say  I  too  am  very 

SOrrV'  WINTERBOURNE. 

I  will  come  the  very  first  evening  I  am  free. 

DAISY. 
I  did  n't  want  the  first  evening ;  I  wanted  this  one. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  beg  you  to  forgive  me.  My  own  loss  is  greater  than 
yours. 

GIOVANELLI,  aside. 

My  friend  the  courier  is  a  clever  man ! 

DAISY,  thoughtful  a  moment. 

Well  it 's  no  matter. 

MRS.    WALKER,  to  Eugenia 

Please  take  her  to  her  mother. 

EUGENIO. 

I  must  act  at  my  convenience,  Madame  ! 


ACT  SECOND:  SCENE  ELEVENTH.      133 

DAISY. 

I  'm  not  going  to  my  mother.     Mr.  Giovanelli ! 

GIOVANELLI,  with  alacrity. 

Signorina  ? 

DAISY. 

Please  to  give  me  your  arm.     We  '11  go  on  with  our  walk. 

MRS.   WALKER,  coming  between  the  two. 

Now  don't  do  anything  dreadful ! 

DAISY,  to  Giovanelli. 

Give  me  your  arm.       (Giovanelli  passes  behind  Mrs.  Walker,  and  gives 
Daisy  his  arm  on  the  other  side.    She  continues,  with  a  sudden  outbreak  of  passion.) 

I  see  nothing  dreadful  but  your  cruel  accusations  !     If  you 
all  attack  me,  I  have  a  friend  to  defend  me. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  will  defend  you  always,  Signorina ! 

MRS.    WALKER. 

Are  you  going  to  take  her  to  that  drinking-shop  ? 

DAISY. 

That 's  our  own  affair.     Come  away,  come  away ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  have  done  you  a  greater  injury  than  I  supposed. 

DAISY. 
The  injury  was  done  when  you  spoke  to  me  that  way  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

When  I  spoke  to  you  ?     I  don't  understand. 

DAISY. 
Half  an  hour  ago,  when  you  said  I  was  so  bad ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

If  people  insult  you,  they  will  answer  to  me. 

WINTERBOURNE,  to  Giovanelli. 

Don't  be  rash,  sir !     You  will  need  all  your  caution. 


134  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

High  words  between  gentlemen,  to  crown  the  horrors ! 
(TO  Eugenic.)    Go  straight  and  ask  Mrs.  Miller  if  she  consents. 

EUGENIO,  smiling. 

Mrs.  Miller  consents  to  everything  that  I  approve. 

DAISY. 

Come  away,  Mr.  Giovanelli ! 

GIOVANELLI,  aside. 

I  shall  have  to  take  a  Cab  !       (They  walk  up  the  stage.) 
MRS.    WALKER. 

Mercy  on  us  !     She  is  lost ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  sternly. 

Leave  her  alone.     She  only  wants  a  pretext ! 

DAISY,  who  has  heard  him,  turning  as  she  reaches  the  top  of  the  stage,  and 
looking  back  a  moment. 

Thank  you,  Mr.  Winterbourne  !     (she  goes  out  with  Giovanelli.) 

MRS.    WALKER,  to  Winterbourne. 

Yes,  my  dear  sir,  you  have  done  a  pretty  piece  of  work. 

EUGENIO,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  as  at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  watching 
the  scene  complacently. 

My  little  revenge  on  the  journey  to  the  castle ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  looking  at  his  watch,  to  himself. 

Well,  /  shall  have  that  moonlight  drive ! 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  FIRST.  135 


ACT    THIED. 

Home.  Public  parlors  at  the  Hotel  de  Paris ;  evening.  Wide  windows 
at  the  hack,  overlooking  the  Corso,  open  upon  a  halcony,  which  must 
he  apparent,  hehind  light  curtains,  to  the  audience.  The  Carnival  is 
going  on  outside,  and  the  flare  of  torches,  the  sound  of  voices  and  of 
music,  the  uproar  of  a  popular  festival,  come  into  the  room,  rising 
and  falling  at  intervals  during  the  whole  act. 

SCESTE   EIEST. 
MRS.  COSTELLO,  MISS  DURANT,  CHARLES  REVERDY. 

He  comes  in  first  at  the  left,  holding  the  door  open  for  the  others  to 
follow. 

REVERDY. 

You  can  see  very  well  from  this  balcony,  if  you  won't  go 
down  into  the  street. 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

Down  into  the  street  —  to  be  trampled  to  death  ?  I  have 
no  desire  to  be  butchered  to  make  a  Eoman  holiday. 

REVERDY,  aside. 

They  would  find  you  a  tough  old  morsel !  (Aloud.)  It 's 
the  last  night  of  the  Carnival,  and  a  peculiar  license  prevails. 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

I  'm  happy  to  hear  it 's  the  last  night.  Their  tooting  and 
piping  and  fiddling  has  n't  stopped  for  a  week,  and  my  poor 
old  head  has  been  racked  with  pain. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Is  it  very  bad  now  ?  You  had  better  go  to  our  own  quiet 
sitting-room,  which  looks  out  on  the  back. 


136  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

And  leave  you  here  with  this  youth  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 

After  all  —  in  the  Carnival ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

A  season  of  peculiar  license  —  as  he  himself  confesses.  I 
wonder  you  don't  propose  at  once  to  mingle  with  the  popu 
lace  —  in  a  fancy  dress  ! 

MISS   DURANT. 

I  should  like  to  very  much !  I  'm  tired  of  being  cooped 
up  in  a  balcony.  If  this  is  the  last  night,  it 's  my  only 
chance. 

MRS.  COSTELLO,  severely. 

Alice  Durant,  I  don't  recognize  you  !  The  Carnival  has 
affected  you  —  insidiously.  You  're  as  bad  as  Daisy  Miller. 

REVERDY. 

Poor  little  butterfly  !  Don't  speak  harshly  of  her :  she  is 
lying  ill  with  Eoman  fever. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Since  her  visit  to  the  Coliseum,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening, 
with  the  inveterate  Giovanelli  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  suppose  he  '11  marry  her  when  she  recovers  —  if  she 
does  recover ! 

REVERDY. 

It  was  certainly  idiotic,  from  the  point  of  view  of  salu 
brity,  to  go  to  enjoy  the  moonlight  in  that  particularly 
mouldy  ruin,  and  the  inveterate  Giovanelli,  who  is  old 
enough  to  know  better,  ought  to  have  a  thrashing.  The 
poor  girl  may  never  recover.  The  little  Flower  of  the  West, 
as  Mrs.  Walker  says,  is  withering  on  the  stem.  Fancy  dying 
to  the  music  of  the  Carnival ! 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE   FIRST/"  137 


MRS.  COSTELLO. 

That  's  the  way  I  shall  die,  unless  you  come  now  and  take 
your  last  look,  so  that  we  may  go  away  arid  have  done  with 
it.  (Goes  .to  the  window.)  Good  heavens,  what  a  rabble  ! 

(Passes  out  on  the  balcony.) 

REVERDY,  to  Miss  Durant,  remaining  behind. 

Will  you  give  her  the  slip,  and  come  out  with  me  ? 

MISS    DURANT,  looking  at  him,  and  listening  to  the  music. 

In  a  fancy  dress  ? 

REVERDY. 

Oh,  no  ;  simply  in  a  mask.     I  've  got  one  in  my  pocket. 

(Takes  out  a  grotesque  mask  and  holds  it  to  his  face  a  moment,  shaking  his  head  at 

her.)     How  d  'ye  do,  lovely  woman  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 

Dear  me,  how  very  hideous  ! 

REVERDY. 

If  you  put  it  on,  I  shall  be  as  handsome  as  ever. 

MISS   DURANT,  aside. 

If  he  should  propose  out  there,  it  would  hide  my  blushes  ! 

MRS-  COSTELLO,  from  the  balcony. 

Young  people,  what  are  you  doing  ?  Come  out  here  this 
minute  ! 

REVERDY. 

There  she  is  again!  (Aloud.)  Are  you  afraid  they  will 
pelt  you  with  flowers  ? 

MRS.  COSTELLO. 

A  gentleman  has  already  kissed  his  hand  to  me  ! 

REVERDY. 

A  season  of  peculiar  license  !  (TO  Miss  Durant.)  We  can't 
escape  from  her  now,  but  it  won't  be  long!  (They  rejoin  Mr3. 

Costello  on  the  balcony,  Reverdy  holding  the  mask  behind  him  While  they 
remain  there,  apparently  absorbed  in  the  spectacle  in  the  street,  Eugenio  and  Gio- 
vanelli  come  in.) 


138  DAISY   MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

SCENE   SECOND. 

EUGENIO,  GIOVANELLI;    THEN  REVERDY,  MISS  DURANT. 
EUGENIO. 

You  must  come  in  here ;  we  can't  talk  in  the  hall. 

GIOVANELLI,  with  a  bouquet  of  flowers. 

I  have  come  for  news  of  the  dear  young  lady.  I  'm  ter 
ribly  nervous. 

EUGENIO. 

You  think  you  may  lose  her  ?     It  would  serve  you  right ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

If  I  lose  her  I  shall  never  try  again.  I  am  passionately  in 
love  with  her. 

EUGENIO. 

I  hope  so,  indeed !     That  was  part  of  our  agreement. 

GIOVANELLI. 

If  you  begin  to  joke,  I  see  she  's  better. 

EUGENIO. 

If  I  begin  to  joke?  I'm  as  serious  as  you.  If  she's 
better  it 's  no  thanks  to  you  —  doing  your  best  to  kill  her 
on  my  hands. 

GIOVANELLI. 

It  was  no  fault  of  mine.     She  had  her  own  way. 

EUGENIO. 

The  Coliseum  by  moonlight  —  that  was  a  lovely  inven 
tion  !  Why  did  n't  you  jump  into  the  Tiber  at  once  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

We  are  not  the  first  who  have  been  there.  It 's  a  very 
common  excursion. 

EUGENIO. 
By  daylight,  of  course ;  but  not  when  the  miasma  rises. 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE  SECOND.  139 

GIOVANELLI. 

Excuse  me  :  it  is  recommended  in  the  guide-books. 

EUGENIC. 

Do  you  make  love  according  to  Murray  ?  —  or,  perhaps, 
according  to  Baedeker  ?  I  myself  have  conducted  families 
there,  to  admire  the  general  effect ;  but  not  to  spend  the 
evening. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  was  afraid  for  myself,  Heaven  knows  ! 

EUGENIO. 

"  Afraid  for  yourself "  is  good  —  with  an  American 
heiress  beside  you ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  could  n't  induce  her  to  come  away,  the  moon  was  so 
bright  and  beautiful !  And  then  you  wanted  her  to  be 
talked  about. 

EUGENIO. 

Yes  :  but  I  wanted  you  to  take  her  alive.  She 's  talked 
about  enough  to-day.  It  was  only  a  week  ago,  but  the 
whole  town  knows  it. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Per  Bacco  !  That  solemn  fool  of  a  Winterbourne  has 
spread  the  story. 

EUGENIO. 

The  further  the  better  !  But  I  thought  I  had  given  him 
something  else  to  do. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  don't  know  what  you  had  given  him  to  do  ;  but,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  he  turned  up  at  the  Coliseum.  He  came 
upon  us  suddenly,  and  stood  there  staring.  Then  he  took 
off  his  hat  to  my  companion,  and  made  her  the  lowest  of 
bows. 


140  DAISY  MILLER  :  A  COMEDY. 

EUGENIO. 

Without  a  word  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

Without  a  word.     He  turned  his  back  and  walked  off. 

EUGENIO. 

Stupid  ass  !     But  it  is  all  right :  he  has  given  her  up. 

GIOVANELLI. 

He  gave  her  up  that  day  on  the  Pincian ;  he  has  not  been 
near  her  since. 

EUGENIO,  aside. 

The  Katkoff  is  really  perfect !  —  though  he  comes  to  ask 
about  her  every  day.  (Aloud.)  Yes,  but  he  wanted  a  reason : 
now  he  has  got  his  reason. 

GIOVANELLI,  pretentiously. 

I  shall  give  him  a  better  one  than  that ! 
EUGENIO. 

He  's  perfectly  content  with  this  one ;  and  it  must  be 
admitted  it  would  suit  most  people.  We  must  hope  it  will 
suit  Mr.  Miller. 

GIOVANELLI,  gloomily. 

Ah,  Mr.  Miller  ?  I  seemed  to  see  him  there,  too,  in  the 
moonlight ! 

EUGENIO. 

You  're  afraid  of  him,  and  your  fear  makes  images.  What 
did  Miss  Daisy  do  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

After  the  American  had  left  us?  She  held  her  tongue 
till  we  got  home. 

EUGENIO. 

She  said  nothing  about  him  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

Never  a  word,  thank  goodness  ! 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE   SECOND.  141 

EUGENIC,  thoughtful  a  moment. 

Cavaliere,  you  are  very  limited. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  verily  believe  I  am,  to  stand  here  and  answer  your 
questions.  All  this  time  you  have  told  me  nothing  about 
my  adored !  mowio. 

She  is  doing  very  well ;  it  has  been  a  light  attack.  She 
has  sat  up  these  three  days,  and  the  doctor  says  she  needs 
only  to  be  careful.  But  being  careful  doesn't  suit  her; 
she  5s  in  despair  at  missing  the  Carnival. 

GIOVANELLI,  tenderly. 

Enchanting  young  person  !  Be  so  good  as  to  give  her 
these  flowers.  Be  careful  of  them,  you  know  ! 

EUGENIC. 

I  should  think  so  —  when  I  pay  for  them  myself. 

GIOVANELLI. 

And  ask  if  I  may  come  up  and  see  her. 

EUGENIC,  looking  at  the  bouquet. 

You  get  'em  handsome,  I  must  say.  —  I  don't  know  what 
the  doctor  would  say  to  that. 

GIOVANELLI,  smiling. 

Let  me  be  the  doctor.     You  '11  see  ! 

EUGENIO. 

You're  certainly  dangerous  enough  for  one.  But  you 
must  wait  till  we  go  out  —  the  mother  and  the  brother 
and  I. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Where  are  you  going,  at  this  hour  ? 

EUGENIO. 

To  show  that  peevish  little  brat  the  illumination. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Mrs.  Miller  leaves  her  daughter  —  at  such  a  time  ? 


142  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

EUGENIO. 

Master  Eandolph  is  the  head  of  the  family. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  must  get  his  consent,  to  the  marriage,  then  ? 

EUGENIO. 

You  can  get  it  with  a  pound  of  sugar  plums. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  '11  buy  him  a  dozen  to-morrow. 

EL7GENIO. 

And  charge  them  to  me,  of  course. 

GIOVANELLI,  stiffly. 

Please  to  open  the  door.     I  '11  wait  in  the  hall  till  you  go 

OUt.  (Eugenic  opens  the  door,  looks  at  him,  and  then  passes  out  first.  Gio- 
vanelli  follows.  When  they  have  left  the  room,  Reverdy  and  Miss  Durant  come  in 
from  the  balcony.) 

REVERDY,  his  finger  on  his  lips. 

Hush,  hush!  She's  looking  for  the  gentleman  who 
kissed  his  hand. 

MISS   DURANT. 

When  she  kissed  hers  back,  she  frightened  him  away  ! 

REVERDY. 

I  can't  stand  that  balcony  business  !  I  want  to  dance  and 
sing,  in  the  midst  of  it,  with  a  charming  creature  on  my 
arm  ! 

MISS   DURANT. 

I  forbid  you  to  touch  any  of  your  creatures  ! 

REVERDY. 

In  the  Carnival  one  may  touch  any  one.  All  common 
laws  are  suspended. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Cousin  Louisa  won't  listen  to  that. 

REVERDY. 

She's  a  great   deal  worse  than  we  herself — having  an 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  THIRD.        143 

intrigue  with  a  perfect  stranger  !  Now  's  our  chance  to  escape ; 
before  she  misses  us,  we  shall  be  a  mile  away. 

MISS    DUE  ANT. 

A  mile  away  is  very  far !     You  make  me  feel  dreadfully 
like  Daisy  Miller.  EEVERDY. 

To  be  perfect,  all  you  want  is  to  be  a  little  like  her. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Oh,  you  wretch —  I  never ! 

REVERDY. 

There,  now,  you  are  just  like  her ! 

MISS   DURANT. 

I  certainly  am  not  used  to  being  a  wall-flower. 

REVERDY. 

A  plant  in  a  balcony  is  even  worse.    Come,  come !  here 's 
the  mask.  MISS  DURANT> 

It 's  very  dreadful.     I  can't  bear  to  look  so  ugly  ! 

REVERDY. 

Don't  I  know  how  pretty  you  are  ? 

MISS    DURANT,  taking  his  arm,  aside. 

He  can  do  anything  with  me  he  wants !     (Exeunt.   Enter 

Daisy  on  the  opposite  side.) 


SCENE  THIED. 

DAISY   ALONE  ;    THEN    WINTERBOURNE,    A   WAITER  ;    MRS. 
COSTELLO. 

DAISY.    She  wears  a  light  dressing-gown,  like  an  invalid,  and  it  must  be  apparent 
that  she  has  been  ill,  though  this  appearance  must  not  be  exaggerated.    She 
wanders  slowly  into  the  room,  and  pauses  in  the  middle. 

Ah,  from  here  the  music  is  very  distinct  —  and  the  voices 
of  the  crowd,  and  all  the  sound  of  the  fete.     Upstairs,  in  our 


144  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

rooms,  you  can  hear  it  just  dimly.  That  's  the  way  it  seemed 
to  me  —  just  faint  and  far  —  as  I  lay  there  with  darkened 
windows.  It 's  hard  to  be  sick  when  there 's  so  much  pleas 
ure  going  on,  especially  when  you  're  so  fond  of  pleasure  as 
poor  silly  me  !  Perhaps  I  'm  too  fond  ;  that 's  one  of  the 
things  I  thought  of  as  I  lay  there.  I  thought  of  so  many  — 
and  some  of  them  so  sad  —  as  I  listened  to  the  far-away 
Carnival.  I  think  it  was  this  that  helped  me  to  get  better. 
I  was  afraid  I  had  been  bad,  and  I  wanted  to  live  to  be  good 
again.  I  was  afraid  I  should  die,  and  I  did  n't  want  to  die. 
But  I  'm  better  now,  and  I  can  walk  and  do  everything  I 
want.  (Listening  again.)  Every  now  and  then  it  grows  louder, 
as  if  the  people  were  so  happy !  It  reminds  me  of  that 
poetry  I  used  to  learn  at  school,  "There  was  a  sound  of 
revelry  by  night."  That 's  a  sound  I  always  wanted  to  hear. 
This  is  the  last  night ;  and  when  mother  and  Bandolph  went 
out,  I  could  n't  stay  there  alone.  I  waited  a  little  ;  I  was 
afraid  of  meeting  some  one  on  the  stairs.  But  every  one  is 
in  the  streets,  and  they  have  gone  to  see  the  illumination. 
I  thought  of  that  balcony :  just  to  look  out  a  little  is  better 
than  nothing.  (Listens  again  a  moment.)  Every  now  and  then  it 

increases.       (Goes  to  the  window,  but  seeing  Mrs.  Costello  outside  comes  back.) 

Ah,  there  's  some  one  there ;  and  with  this  old  wrapper  .  .  . 
(Looking  at  her  dressing-gown.)  Perhaps  the  night  air  is  n't  good 
for  me ;  the  doctor  forbids  the  night  air.  Ah,  what  a  pity 

it's  the  last  evening!  (Goes  to  the  window  again,  and  while  she  stands 
there  a  waiter  throws  open  the  door  and  ushers  in  Winterboume,  who  at  first  does 
not  see  her.) 

THE    WAITER. 

The  ladies  are  here,  sir.  (surprised  not  to  find  them.)  Excuse 
me.  I  saw  them  come  in  with  Mr.  Reverdy,  but  they  have 
gone  out  again. 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  THIRD.      145 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It 's  not  those  ladies  I  want.  Please  to  ask  Madame  de 
Katkoff  if  she  can  see  me. 

THE   WAITER. 

Won't  you  go  up  to  her  sitting-room  ?  She  has  a  great 
many  guests. 

WINTERBOURNE,  annoyed. 

A  great  many  guests  ? 

THE    WAITER. 

A  party  of  friends,  who  have  come  to  see  the  fete  from  one 
of  her  windows.  Her  parlor  is  in  the  Square,  and  the  view 
is  even  finer  than  from  here. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  know  all  about  her  parlor.  (Aside.)  It 's  hateful  to  see 
her  with  a  lot  of  others!  (Aloud.)  Ask  her  if  she  will 
kindly  speak  to  me  here. 

THE    WAITER. 

Ah,  you  lose  a  great  deal,  sir !     (Exit.) 

WINTERBOURNE. 

The  servants  in  this  place  are  impossible ;  the  young 
Eandolph  has  demoralized  them  all !  That 's  the  same 
fellow  who,  last  summer,  wanted  to  give  me  a  definition  of 
my  aunt,  (seeing Daisy.)  Ah,  that  poor  creature!  (Aloud.) 
I  am  afraid  I  am  intruding  on  you  here. 

DAISY,  coming  forward. 

You  have  as  good  a  right  here  as  I.  I  don't  think  I  have 
any. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  mean  as  an  invalid  ?  I  am  very  happy  to  see  you 
better. 

DAISY. 

Thank  you.     I  'm  very  well. 
10 


146  DAISY  MILLER  :   A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  asked  about  you  every  day. 

DAISY. 
They  never  told  me. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  was  your  faithful  courier  ! 
DAISY. 

He  was   so  frightened  at  my  illness   that  he   couldn't 
remember  anything. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  yes,  he  was  terribly  afraid  he  should  lose  you.    For 
a  couple  of  days  it  was  very  serious. 

DAISY. 
How  do  you  know  that  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  asked  the  doctor. 

DAISY,  aside. 

He  's  very  strange.     Why  should  he  care  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

He  said  you  had  done  what  might  kill  you. 

DAISY. 
At  the  Coliseum  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

At  the  Coliseum. 

DAISY. 

Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  that,  when  you  saw  me  there  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Because  you  had  an  adviser  in  whom  you  have  much  more 
faith. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Mr.  Giovanelli  ?     Oh,  it 's  not  his  fault.     He  begged  me 
to  come  away. 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE  THIRD.  147 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  you  did  n't  mind  him,  you  would  n't  have  minded  me. 

DAISY. 

I  didn't   care  what   happened.     But  I  noticed,  all   the 
same,  that  you  did  n't  speak  to  me. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  had  nothing  to  say. 

DAISY. 

You  only  bowed,  very  low. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  was  to  express  my  great  respect. 

DAISY. 
I  had  never  had  such  a  bow  before. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  had  never  been  so  worthy  of  it ! 

DAISY,  aside. 

He  despises  me !  Well,  I  don't  care !  (Aloud.)  It  was 
lovely  there  in  the  moonlight. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  was  sure  you  found  it  so.  That  was  another  reason  I 
did  n't  wish  to  interrupt  you. 

DAISY,  playing  indifference. 

What  were  you  doing  there,  all  alone  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  had  been  dining  at  a  villa  in  that  part  of  Eome  and  I 
simply  stopped,  as  I  walked  home,  to  take  a  look  at  the 
splendid  ruin. 

DAISY,  after  a  pause,  in  the  same  manner. 

I  shouldn't  think  you  'd  go  round  alone. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  have  to  go  as  I  can  ;  I  have  n't  your  resources. 


148  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

DAISY. 

Don't  you  know  any  ladies  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Yes ;  but  they  don't  expose  themselves  .  .  . 

DAISY,  with  quick  emotion. 

Expose  themselves  to  be  treated  as  you  treated  me  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  are  rather  difficult  to  please.     (Ucenter  the  waiter.) 

THE    WAITER. 

Madame  de  Katkoff  will  come  in  about  ten  minutes,  sir. 

WINTERBOURNE. 
THE   WAITER. 

She 's  just  pouring  out  tea  for  the  company. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  will  do. 

THE   WAITER,  smiling. 

You  know  the  Kussians  must  have  their  tea,  sir. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  talk  too  much. 

THE   WAITER,  going  out. 

He 's  very  sharp  to-night !     (Exit  Waiter.) 

DAISY,  who  has  turned  away  a  moment,  coming  down. 

If  you  are  expecting  some  one,  I  '11  go  away. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

There  's  another  public  room.     I  '11  see  my  friend  there. 
DAISY. 

I  have  nothing  to  do  here.  (Goes  toward  the  door,  but  stops  half 
way,  looking  at  him.)  You  see  a  great  deal  of  Madame  de  Kat 
koff.  Does  n't  she  expose  herself? 

WINTERBOURNE,  smiling. 

To  dangerous  consequences  ?     Never  ! 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  THIRD. 
DAISY.     She  conies  down  again,  as  if  unable  to  decide  to  leave  him.    Aside. 

I  'm  determined  to  know  what  he  thinks.  (Aloud,  in  a  different 
tone.)  I  was  going  out  on  the  balcony,  to  see  what 's  going 
on. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Are  you  not  afraid  of  the  night  air  ? 

DAISY. 
I  'm  not  afraid  of  anything  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Are  you  going  to  begin  again  ? 

DAISY. 

Ah,  I  'm  too  late  !     It 's  nearly  over.     (At  the  moment  she 

speaks,  Mrs.  Costello  appears  in  the  window,  from  the  balcony.    Reenter  Mrs. 
Costello.) 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  to  Winterboume. 

Merciful  powers !  I  thought  you  were  Mr.  Keverdy ! 
(Looking  at  Daisy.)  And  that  this  young  lady  was  my  Alice ! 

DAISY. 

Something  very  different,  you  see  !     Now  I  can  have  the 

balcony.      (She  passes  out  of  the  window.) 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

What  are  you  doing  with  that  girl  ?  I  thought  you  had 
dropped  her. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  was  asking  about  her  health.  She  has  been  down  with 
the  fever. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

It  will  do  her  good  —  make  her  reflect  on  her  sins.  But 
what  have  you  done  with  my  young  companions  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Nothing  in  the  world.  The  last  I  saw  of  them  they  were 
frolicking  in  the  Corso. 


150  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Frolicking  in  the  Corso  ?     Alice  and  Mr.  Reverdy  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  met  them  as  I  was  corning  from  my  lodgings  to  the 
hotel.  He  was  blowing  a  tin  trumpet,  and  she  was  hiding 
behind  a  mask. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

A  tin  trumpet  and  a  mask !    Have  they  gone  to  perdition  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

They  are  only  taking  advantage  of  the  Carnival. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Taking  advantage  of  my  back ;  I  had  turned  it  for  three 
minutes  !  They  were  on  the  balcony  with  me,  looking  at 
this  vulgar  riot,  and  they  slipped  away  to  come  in  here. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  never  give  them  a  chance  :  they  hunger  and  thirst ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

A  chance  to  masquerade  ?     Think  of  her  education ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  thinking  of  it  now.     You  see  the  results. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  said  to  myself  that  I  was  perhaps  too  vigilant,  and  I  left 
them  here  a  moment  to  talk  things  over.  I  saw  through  the 
window  a  young  lady  and  a  gentleman,  and  I  took  it  for 
granted  it  was  they. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ingenuous  aunt !     They  were  already  a  mile  away  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

It 's  too  horrible  to  believe.  You  must  immediately  bring 
them  back.  WINTERBOURNE. 

Impossible  just  now.     I  have  an  engagement  here. 


ACT  THIRD:    SCENE  THIRD.  151 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  '11  go  and  look  for  them  myself ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  laying  his  hand  on  her  arm. 

Don't,  don't !     Let  them  have  a  little  fun ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  never  heard  of  anything  so  cynical ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Don't  you  want  them  to  marry? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

To  marry,  yes ;  but  not  to  elope  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Let  them  do  it  in  their  own  way. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

With  a  mask  and  a  tin  trumpet  ?     A  girl  I  've  watched 
like  that ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You    have  watched  too    much.      They  '11    come  home 
engaged. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Ah,  bring  them,  then,  quickly  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  will  go  down  into  the  street  and  look ;   and  if  I  see 
them,  I  will  tell  them  what 's  expected  of  them. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  will  go   to  my  room ;    I  feel  a  headache  coming  on. 

(Before  she  goes  out,  to  herself,  as  if  a  thought  has  struck  her.)       Had   they 

bribed  that  monster  to  kiss  his  hand  ?     (Exeunt.) 


152  DAISY  MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

SCENE    FOURTH. 

GIOVANELLI,  DAISY. 

He  enters  the  room,  and  she  comes  in  from  the  balcony  at  the  same 
moment.  He  advances  with  a  radiant  smile,  takes  both  of  her  hands, 
holds  them  for  a  moment  devotedly,  then  kisses  each  of  them. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Carissima  signorina!  When  I  see  you  restored  to  health, 
I  begin  to  live  myself ! 

DAISY. 

Poor  old  Giovanelli !     I  believe  you  do  care  for  me ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

Care  for  you  ?  When  I  heard  you  were  ill,  I  neither  ate 
nor  slept.  I  thought  I,  too,  should  have  to  have  the  doctor. 

DAISY,  laughing. 

I  should  have  sent  you  mine  if  I  had  known  it.  You 
must  eat  a  good  supper  to-night,  for  I  am  all  right  now. 

GIOVANELLI. 

You  look  still  a  little  pale. 

DAISY. 

I  look  like  a  fright,  of  course,  in  this  dreadful  dress ;  but 
I  'm  only  a  convalescent.  If  I  had  known  you  were  coming, 
I  would  have  worn  something  better. 

GIOVANELLI. 

You  look  like  an  angel,  always.  You  might  have  been 
sure  I  would  come,  after  so  many  days.  I  was  always  at 
your  door,  asking  for  news.  But  now,  I  think,  we  shall 
never  again  be  separated. 

DAISY. 

Never  again  ?  Oh,  don't  talk  about  the  future  !  What 
were  you  doing  there  in  the  street  ? 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  FOURTH.  153 

GIOVANELLI. 

When  I  looked  up  and  saw  you  on  the  balcony,  bending 
over  like  a  little  saint  in  her  shrine  ?  It  was  that  vision  that 
made  me  come  up  again. 

DAISY. 

You  had  gone  out  to  enjoy  the  Carnival  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  had  come  here  to  see  you;  but  I  learned  from  your 
excellent  Eugenio  that  your  mother  and  your  brother  were 
going  out  in  a  carriage.  They  appeared  at  that  moment,  and 
I  went  down  with  them  to  the  door,  to  wish  them  a  happy 
drive.  Little  Randolph  was  greatly  excited. 
DAISY. 

He  insisted  on  mother's  going ;  she  '11  do  anything  for 
Eandolph.  But  she  did  n't  want  to  leave  me. 

GIOVANELLI,  smiling. 

She  has  left  you  to  me  ! 

DAISY. 

Did  Eugenio  go  with  them  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

Oh,  yes  ;  he  got  into  the  carriage.  (Aside.)  The  cheek  of 
that  man ! 

DAISY. 
They  have  left  me  alone,  then. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  am  almost  of  the  family,  dear  Miss ! 

DAISY,  apparently  not  hearing  him,  listening  to  the  sounds  from  without. 

They  ought  n't  to  have  left  me  alone — when  I'm  sick, 
when  I  'm  weak. 

GIOVANELLI,  anxiously. 

You  are  not  so  well,  then,  as  you  say  ? 


154  DAISY   MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

DAISY,  looking  at  him  a  moment,  with  a  little  laugh. 

You  look  so  scared  at  the  idea  of  losing  me !     Poor  old 
Giovanelli !     What  should  you  do  if  you  were  to  lose  me  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

Don't  speak  of  it  —  it 's  horrible  !     If  you  are  not  well, 
you  should  go  to  your  room. 

DAISY. 
Oh,  I  'm  all  right.     I  only  wanted  to  frighten  you. 

GIOVANELLI. 

It  is  n't  kind  —  when  you  know  how  I  love  you  ! 

DAISY. 

I  don't  know  it,  and  I  don't  want  to  know  it,  as  I  have 
told  you  often.     I  forbid  you  to  speak  of  that. 

GIOVANELLI. 

You  will  never  let  me  mention  the  future. 

DAISY. 
I  hate  the  future ;  I  care  only  for  the  present ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

The  future  is  the  present,  when  one  sees  it  as  we  see  it. 

DAISY. 

I  don't  see  it  at  all,  and  I  don't  want  to  see  it.     I  saw  it 
for  a  moment,  when  I  was  sick,  and  that  was  enough. 

GIOVANELLI. 

You  have  suffered  much  ;  but  it  was  not  my  fault. 

DAISY. 

I   don't  blame   you,    Giovanelli.      You   are   very   kind. 
Where  are  they  goirjg,  mother  and  Randolph  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

Up  and  down  the  Cora?  ;  wherever  thesis  something  to 
see.     They  have  an  open  carriage;  with  lots  £f  flowers. 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  FOURTH.  155 

DAISY. 

It  must  be  charming.     Have  you  been  going  round  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  have  strolled  about  a  little. 

DAISY. 

Is  it  very,  very  amusing  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

Ah,  you  know,  I  'm  an  old  Roman  ;  I  have  seen  it  many 
times.  The  illumination  is  better  than  usual,  and  the  music 
is  lively  enough.  DAISY. 

Listen  to  the  music  —  listen  to  it ! 

GIOVANELLI,  smiling. 
You  must  n't  let  it  gO  to  your  head.      (Daisy  goes  to  the  window, 

and  stands  there  a  moment.)     She  has  never  been  so  lovely  as  to 
night  ! 

DAISY,  coming  back,  with  decision. 

Giovanelli,  you  must  get  me  a  carriage. 

GIOVANELLI,  startled. 

A  carriage,  signorina  ? 

DAISY. 

I  must  go  out  —  I  must ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

There  is  not  a  carriage  to  be  had  at  this  hour.  Every 
thing  is  taken  for  the  fete. 

DAISY. 
Then  I  '11  go  on  foot.     You  must  take  me. 

GIOVANELLI. 

Into  the  air  of  the  night,  and  the  crowded  streets  ?  It 's 
enough  to  kill  you  ! 

DAISY. 

It 's  a  lovely  night,  as  mild  as  June ;  and  it 's  only  for 
five  minutes. 


156  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

GIOVANELLI. 

The  softer  the  night,  the  greater  the  danger  of  the  bad 
air.  Five  minutes,  in  your  condition,  would  bring  back  the 
fever. 

DAISY. 

I  shall  have  the  fever  if  I  stay  here  listening,  longing, 
fidgeting  !  You  said  I  was  pale ;  but  it 's  only  the  delicacy 
of  my  complexion. 

GIOVANELLI. 

You  are  not  pale  now;  you  have  a  little  spot  in  either 
cheek.  Your  mother  will  not  be  happy. 

DAISY. 
She  should  n't  have  left  me  alone,  then. 

GIOVANELLI. 

You  are  not  alone  when  you  are  with  me. 

DAISY. 
Of  what  use  are  you,  except  to  take  me  out  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 

It 's  impossible  to  contradict  you.  For  five  minutes,  then, 
remember! 

For  five  minutes,  then ;  or  for  ten  !  I  '11  go  and  get 
ready.  Don't  mind  about  the  carriage :  we  '11  do  it  better 
on  foot. 

GIOVANELLI,  at  the  door. 

It 's  at  your  own  risk,  you  know.     I  '11  try  for  a  cab. 

DAISY. 
My  own  risk !     I  'm  not  afraid. 

GIOVANELLI,  kissing  his  hand  to.  her. 

You  are  awfully  beautiful !     (Exit  Giovanem.) 

DAISY,  alone. 

I  'm  not  afraid  —  I  don't  care  !  I  don't  like  him  to 
night  ;  he's  too  serious.  I  would  rather  be  out-of-doors 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE  FIFTH.  157 

with  him  than  shut  up  here.  Poor  Giovanelli ;  if  he  thinks 
I  love  him,  after  all  I  've  said  to  the  contrary  ...  I  can 

dress  in  three  minutes.  (She  is  going  to  the  door  opposite  to  the  one 
through  which  Giovaiielli  has  made  his  exit  when  Madame  de  Katkoff  comes  in, 
meeting  her.) 


SCENE  FIFTH. 
DAISY,  MADAME  DE  KATKOFF. 

They  stand  a  moment,  looking  at  each  other. 
MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  very  kindly. 

I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  you,  though  we  have 
spent  half  the  winter  in  the  same  hotel ;  but  I  have  heard  of 
your  illness,  and  you  must  let  me  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  to 
see  you  better. 

DAISY,  aside. 

Why  does  she  speak  to  me  ?  I  don't  like  her,  nor  want 
to  know  her.  (Aloud.)  Thank  you,  I  'm  better.  I  'm  going 
out. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  must  be  better,  indeed ;  but  (with  interest)  you  look  a 
little  flushed. 

DAISY. 
It 's  talking  with  a  stranger.     I  think  I  must  go. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  something  first.     A  gentleman 
sent  me  his  name,  and  I  was  told  I  should  find  him  here. 
May  I  ask  you  whether  you  have  seen  such  a  person  ? 
DAISY. 

If  you  mean  Mr.  Winterbourne,  he  was  here  just  now ; 
but  he  went  away  with  his  aunt. 


158  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

I  suppose  he  '11  come  back,  then.  But  he  ought  n't  to 
keep  me  waiting. 

DAISY,  very  coldly. 

I  have  n't  the  least  idea  what  he  ought  to  do.  I  know 
nothing  whatever  of  his  movements. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

Poor  little  thing,  she  hates  me !     But  she  does  n't  hate 
him.     (Aloud.)     I  'm  a  stranger  as  you  say  ;  but  I  should  be 
very  glad  to  become  a  little  less  of  one. 
DAISY. 

Why  should  you  want  to  know  me  ?  I  'm  not  of  your 
age. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside,  smiling. 

She  hates  me  indeed !     (Aloud.)     I  should  be  tempted  to 
say  that  we  might  know  each  other  a  little  as  mother  and 
daughter  —  if  I  had  n't   heard   that  you   are   already  the 
devoted  daughter  of  a  devoted  mother. 
DAISY. 

She  's  good  enough  for  me  —  and  I  'm  good  enough  for 
her. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  more  and  more  pracious. 

I  envy  you  both,  and  I  am  happy  to  have  the  opportunity 
of  saying  so.  One  does  n't  know  how  pretty  you  are  till 
one  talks  to  you. 

DAISY. 

If  you  are  laughing  at  my  dress,  I  am  just  going  to 
change  it.  MADAMB  DE  KATKOFF. 

Laughing  at  your  dress  ?  It  has  always  been  my 
admiration. 

DAISY,  aside. 

What  does  she  mean  by  that  ?  It 's  not  as  good  as  hers. 
(Aloud.)  I  can't  stay  with  you.  I  'm  going  to  the  Carnival. 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE  FIFTH  159 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It  will  last  all  night ;  you  have  plenty  of  time.  I  have 
heard  Mr.  Winterbourne  speak  of  you. 

DAISY. 
I  did  n't  suppose  he  ever  did  that. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

Oh  !  very  often.     That 's  why  I  want  to  know  you. 

DAISY. 

It's  a  strange  reason.  He  must  have  told  you  pretty 
things  of  me. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

He  has  told  me  you  're  a  charming  young  girl. 

DAISY,  aside. 

Oh,  what  an  awful  story  !  (Aloud.)  I  don't  understand 
what  you  want  of  me. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

I  can  hardly  tell  her  that  I  want  to  make  up  to  her  for 
the  harm  I  have  done  her,  for  I  can't  do  that  unless  I  give 
up  everything.  (Aloud,  as  if  struck  by  an  idea.)  I  want  to  be  kind 
to  you.  I  want  to  keep  you  from  going  out. 

DAISY,  smiling. 

I  don't  think  you  can  do  that. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

You  are  barely  convalescent :  you  must  n't  expose  your 
self. 

DAISY. 

It  won't  hurt  any  one  but  me. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

We  all  take  a  great  interest  in  you.  We  should  be  in  de 
spair  if  you  were  to  have  a  relapse. 

DAISY. 

You  all  despise  me  and  think  me  dreadful ;  that 's  what 
you  all  do  ! 


160  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Where  did  you  learn  that  remarkable  fact  ? 

DAISY. 

Mr.  "Winterbourne   told   me  —  since   you  speak   of  Mr. 
Winterbourne. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  don't  think  you  understood  him.     Mr.  Winterbourne  is 
a  perfect  gentleman. 

DAISY. 

Have  you   come  here  to   praise  him  to   me  ?     That 's 
strange  —  for  you  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  know  at  least  that  I  consider  him  an  excellent  friend. 

DAISY. 

I  know  nothing  whatever  about  it.     (Aside.)     She  wants  to 
torture  me  —  to  triumph  ! 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

She  's  as  proud  as  she  is  pretty  !     (Aloud.)     Are  you  going 
out  alone  ? 

DAISY. 

No,  indeed,  I  have  a  friend. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

A  friend  as  well  as  I.     (Aloud.)     My  dear  child,  I  am  very 
sorry  for  you.     You  have  too  many  wrong  ideas. 

DAISY. 
That 's  exactly  what  they  say  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  don't  mean  it  as  other  people  may  have  meant  it.     You 
make  a  great  many  mistakes. 

DAISY. 

As  many  as  I  possibly  can !     In  America  I  was  always 
right 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  FIFTH.  161 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

Try  and  believe  you  are  in  America  now.  I  'm  not  an 
American,  but  I  want  to  be  your  friend. 

DAISY. 
I  'm  much  obliged  to  you,  but  I  don't  trust  you. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  trust  the  wrong  people.  With  whom  are  you  going 
out? 

DAISY. 

I  don't  think  I  'm  obliged  to  tell  you. 

MADAME   DE   KATKOFF,  gently. 

I  ask  for  a  very  good  motive. 

DAISY,  aside. 

She  may  be  better  than  I  think.  (Aloud.)  With  Mr.  Gio- 
vanelli. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  smiling. 

A  mysterious  Italian  —  introduced  by  your  courier ! 

DAISY,  with  simplicity. 

Oh,  no;  Eugenic  got  some  one  else! 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

Adorable   innocence!     (Aloud.)     That's   all  I   wanted  to 

know. 

DAISY. 

I  hope  you  have  nothing  to  say  against  him. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Nothing  but  this  :  he 's  not  a  gentleman. 

DAISY. 
Not  a  gentleman  ?     Poor  old  Giovanelli ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

"  Poor  old  Giovanelli  ?  "  Good  !  (Aloud.)  If  he  were  a 
gentleman,  he  would  n't  ask  you  to  do  what  you  tell  me  you 
are  on  the  point  of  doing. 

11 


162  DAISY  MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

DAISY. 
He  never  asked  me.     He  does  what  I  wish ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

She  does  n't  care  a  fig  for  him  —  and  I  should  like  to 
exasperate  the  courier.     (Aloud.)     It 's  none  of  my  business  ; 
but  why  do  you  wish,  in  your  condition,  to  go  out  ? 
DAISY. 

Because  it 's  the  last  night  of  the  Carnival,  and  I  have  no 
one  else  to  take  me. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Excuse  me ;  but  where  is  your  mother  ? 

DAISY. 
Gone  out  with  my  brother. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

Extraordinary  family!  (Aloud.)  Let  me  make  you  an 
offer :  I  will  order  out  my  carriage,  and  take  you  myself. 

DAISY,  staring. 

Take  me  yourself?  (Then  abruptly,  ironically.)  Pray,  what 
would  become  of  Mr.  "VVinterbourne  ? 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

She  adores  him  !  (Aloud.)  Ah,  you  don't  care  for  Gio- 
vanelli ! 

DAISY. 

Whether  I  care  for  him  or  not,  I  must  n't  keep  him  wait 
ing.  (Exit  Daisy,  hastily.) 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  alone. 

She's  trembling  with  agitation,  and  her  poor  little  heart 
is  full.  She  thought  I  wished  to  torment  her.  My  position 
is  odiously  false !  And  to  think  I  hold  her  happiness  in  my 

hands  !      (Winterbonrne  comes  in.)      His,  too,  poor  fellow  !      All,  I 

can't  hold  it  any  longer ! 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  SIXTH.  163 

SCENE  SIXTH. 

MADAME  DE  KATKOFF,  WINTERBOURNE. 
WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  afraid  I  have  kept  you  waiting.  I  was  carried  away 
by  my  aunt. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

Is  she  keeping  the  Carnival,  your  aunt  ? 

WINTEHBOURNE. 

No,  but  her  companions  are.  They  are  masquerading  in 
the  Corso,  and  she  's  in  despair.  She  sent  me  to  hunt  them 
up,  but  they  are  lost  in  the  crowd. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Do  you  mean  the  young  lady  whom  you  described  as  so 
prim  ?  If  that 's  a  specimen  of  her  primness,  I  was  right  in 
my  little  theory. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Your  little  theory  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

That  the  grave  ones  are  the  gay  ones. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Poor  Miss  Durant  is  n't  gay :  she 's  simply  desperate. 
My  aunt  keeps  such  watch  at  the  door  that  she  has  been 
obliged  to  jump  out  of  the  window.  —  Have  you  waited 
very  long  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  hardly  know.  I  have  had  company  —  Miss  Daisy 
Miller ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  must  have  made  the  time  fly ! 


164  DAISY   MILLER:    A   COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

She  is  very  touching. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Very,  indeed.     She  has  gone  to  pieces. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Gone  to  pieces  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She 's  quite  impossible.     You  ought  n't  to  talk  to  her. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

Ah,  what  a  fool  I  have  made  of  him  !  (Aloud.)  You  think 
she  will  corrupt  my  innocence  ? 

WINTERBOURNE,  after  a  moment. 

I  don't  like  you  to  speak  of  her.     Please  don't. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

She  completes  my  little  theory  —  that  the  gay  ones  are 
the  grave  ones. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  she 's  grave,  she  well  may  be  :  her  situation  is  intensely 
grave.  As  for  her  native  solemnity,  you  used  to  insist  upon 
that  when,  for  reasons  best  known  to  yourself,  you  conceived 
the  remarkable  design  of  inducing  me  to  make  love  to  her. 
You  dropped  the  idea  as  suddenly  as  you  took  it  up ;  but  I 
am  very  sorry  to  see  any  symptoms  of  your  taking  it  up 
again.  It  seems  to  me  it 's  hardly  the  moment. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

It 's  more  the  moment  than  you  think. 

WINTERBOURNE,  rather  liarshly. 

I  was  very  sorry  to  learn,  on  coming  here,  that  you  have 
your  rooms  full  of  people. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

They  have  come  to  look  out  of  my  windows.  It  is  not 
my  fault  that  I  have  such  a  view  of  the  Corso. 


ACT  THIRD:    SCENE   SIXTH 


WINTERBOURNE. 

You  had  given  me  to  understand  that  we  should  be  alone. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  did  n't  ask  them  ;  they  came  themselves. 

WINTERBOURNE,  impatiently. 

I  wish  to  heaven  they  had  stayed  at  home  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Should  you  like  me  to  turn  them  out  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  should  like  it  particularly. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

The  ambassador  and  all  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  told  me  a  month  ago  that  where  I  was  concerned  you 
did  n't  care  a  straw  for  the  ambassador. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  after  a  moment. 

A  month  ago  —  yes  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  you  intended  to  change  so  soon,  you  ought  to  have 
notified  me  at  the  moment. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

The  ambassador  is  very  considerate.     When  I  have  a  few 
visitors,  he  helps  me  to  entertain  them. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  proves  how  little  you  have  need  of  me. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  have  left  my  guests  in  his  charge,  with  perfect  confi 
dence. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  if  you  mean  you  are  at  liberty,  that  's  just  what  I 
want. 


166  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

What  does  it  occur  to  you  to  propose  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  you  should  drive  out  with  me,  to  see  the  illu 
mination. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  have  seen  fifty  illuminations !  I  am  sick  of  the 
Carnival. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It  is  n't  the  Carnival ;  it 's  the  drive.  I  have  a  carriage 
at  the  door. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  have  no  doubt  it  would  be  charming ;  but  I  am  not  at 
liberty  in  that  sense.  I  can't  leave  a  roomful  of  people 
planted  there !  I  really  don't  see  why  they  should  make 
you  so  savage. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  not  savage,  but  I  am  disappointed.  I  counted  on 
this  evening  :  it 's  a  week  since  we  have  been  alone. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Do  I  appear  to  so  little  advantage  in  company  ?  Are  you 
ashamed  of  me  when  others  are  present?  I  do  the  best 
I  can. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  were  always  strange  —  and  you  always  will  be  ! 
Sometimes  I  think  you  have  taken  a  vow  to  torment  me. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  have  taken  a  vow  —  that 's  very  true ;  and  I  admit  I 
am  strange.  We  Russians  are,  you  know  :  you  had  warning 
of  that! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Yes ;  but  you  abuse  the  national  privilege.  I  am  never 
safe  with  you  —  never  sure  of  you.  You  turn  from  one 
thing  to  the  other. 


ACT   THIRD:   SCENE   SIXTH.  167 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

Poor  fellow,  he  's  bewildered  !  (Aloud.)  Will  you  do  me 
a  favor  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  am  sure  it 's  something  horrible  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  say  you  have  a  carriage  at  the  door.  Take  it,  and  go 
after  that  poor  girl. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  are  you  coming  back  to  her  ?    You  try  my  patience ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

She  has  just  risen  from  an  attack  of  fever,  and  it  strikes 
her  as  a  knowing  thing  to  finish  her  evening  in  the  streets  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  starting  a  little. 

She  has  gone  out  —  looking  that  way  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

That  will  touch  him!  (Aloud.)  She  won't  come  home 
alive. 

WINTERBOURNE,  attentive. 

Do  you  believe  that  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  aside. 

It  has  touched  him  !  (Aloud.)  I  think  it 's  madness. 
Her  only  safety  was  to  have  left  Eome  the  moment  she  could 
be  moved. 

WINTERBOURNE,  after  a  pause. 

I  am  not  sure  the  best  thing  that  can  happen  to  her  is  not 
to  die !  She  ought  to  perish  in  her  flower,  as  she  once  said 
to  me ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

That 's  a  convenient  theory,  to  save  you  the  trouble  of  a 
drive ! 


168  DAISY  MILLER:  A   COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  are  remarkably  pressing,  but  you  had  better  spare 
your  sarcasm.  I  have  no  further  interest  in  the  fate  of  Miss 
Daisy  Miller,  and  no  commission  whatever  to  interfere  with 
her  movements.  She  has  a  mother  —  in  disguise  —  and  she 
has  other  protectors.  I  don't  suppose  she  has  gone  out 
alone. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

She  has  gone  with  her  Italian. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Giovanelli  ?     Ah,  the  scoundrel  I 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  smiling,  aside. 

My  dear  friend,  you  are  all  right.  (Aloud.)  Gently, 
gently  !  It 's  not  Jus  fault. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

That  she  is  infatuated  ?     Perhaps  not. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Infatuated  ?     She  does  n't  care  a  straw  for  him ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

And  to  prove  her  indifference,  she  lets  him  take  her  on 
this  devil's  drive  ?  I  don't  quite  see  it. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

He 's  her  convenience  —  her  little  pretext  —  her  poor  old 
Giovanelli.  He  fetches  and  carries,  and  she  finds  him  very 
useful ;  but  that 's  the  end  of  it.  She  takes  him  to  drive  : 
he  does  n't  take  her. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Did  she  kindly  inform  you  of  these  interesting  facts  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  had  a  long  talk  with  her.  One  woman  understands 
another ! 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE   SIXTH.  169 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  hope  she  understands  you.     It 's  more  than  I  do. 

MADAME    BE    KATKOFF. 

She  has  gone  out  because  she 's  unhappy.  She  does  n't 
care  what  becomes  of  her. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  never  suspected  her  of  such  tragic  propensities.  Pray, 
what  is  she  unhappy  about  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

About  the  hard  things  people  say  of  her. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She  has  only  to  behave  like  other  girls,  then. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Like  your  friend,  Miss  Durant?  A  pretty  model,  this 
evening  !  You  say  you  hope  poor  Daisy  understands  me ; 
but  she  does  n't  —  and  that 's  part  of  the  misery.  She  can't 
make  out  what  I  have  made  of  you  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

A  creature  as  miserable  as  herself !  You  might  have 
explained  :  you  had  the  opportunity. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

She  left  me  abruptly  —  and  I  lost  it  forever! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

All  this  is  nothing  to  us.  When  will  your  friends  leave 
you? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  after  a  pause. 

No,  it 's  nothing  to  us.  —  I  have  n't  asked  my  friends  how 
long  they  mean  to  stay. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Till  eleven  o'clock  —  till  twelve  ? 


170  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Till  one  in  the  morning,  perhaps  —  or  till  two.  They 
will  see  the  Carnival  out.  (smiling.)  You  had  much  better 
join  us  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  passionately. 

Unfathomable  woman !  In  pity's  name,  what  did  you 
mean  by  raising  my  hopes  to  such  a  point,  a  month  ago, 
only  to  dash  them  to  the  ground  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  tried  to  make  you  happy  —  but  I  did  n't  succeed. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  tried  ?     Are  you  trying  now  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

No,  I  have  given  it  up  :  it 's  a  waste  of  time  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Have  you  forgotten  the  day  on  the  Pincian,  after  your 
arrival,  and  what  you  suddenly  offered  me  —  what  you 
promised  me  —  there?  You  had  kept  me  at  arm's  length 
for  three  years,  and  suddenly  the  barrier  dropped.  The 
angel  of  justice  has  kept  the  record  of  my  gratitude  and 
eagerness  —  as  well  as  of  my  surprise ;  and  if  my  tender 
ness  and  respect  were  not  greater  than  ever,  it  is  because  you 
had  already  had  the  best  of  them !  Have  you  forgotten  our 
moonlight  drive  through  the  streets  of  Rome,  with  its  rich 
confusion  of  ancient  memories  and  new-born  hopes  ?  You 
were  perfect  that  evening,  and  for  many  days  afterwards. 
But  suddenly  you  began  to  change  —  to  be  absent,  to  be 
silent,  to  be  cold,  to  go  back  to  your  old  attitude.  To-night 
it 's  as  if  you  were  trying  to  make  me  angry !  Do  you  wish 
to  throw  me  over,  and  leave  me  lying  in  the  dust  ?  Are 
you  only  the  most  audacious  of  coquettes  ? 


ACT  THIRD:    SCENE   SIXTH.  171 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

It 's  not  I  who  have  changed ;  it 's  you  !  Of  course  I 
remember  our  moonlight  drive,  and  how  glad  you  were  to 
take  it.  You  were  happy  for  an  hour  —  you  were  happy  for 
three  days.  There  were  novelty  and  excitement  in  finding 
that,  after  all,  I  had  a  heart  in  my  bosom  ;  and  for  a 
moment  the  discovery  amused  you.  But  only  for  a  moment ! 
So  long  as  I  refused  to  listen  to  you,  you  cared  for  me. 
From  the  day  I  yielded,  I  became  a  bore  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me,  don't  put  it  off  on  me  f 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  don't  really  care  for  me;  your  heart  is  somewhere 
else.  You  are  too  proud  to  confess  it,  but  your  love  for  me 
is  an  elaborate  deception. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

The  deception  is  yours,  then  —  not  mine ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  are  restless,  discontented,  unhappy.  You  are  sore 
and  sick  at  heart,  and  you  have  tried  to  forget  it  in  persuad 
ing  yourself  that  /  can  cure  your  pain.  I  can  cure  it ;  but 
not  by  encouraging  your  illusion  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

If  you  thought  it  an  illusion,  why  did  you  turn  there  and 
smile  on  me  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Because  I  was  vile  and  wicked  —  because  I  have  played  a 
part  and  worn  a  mask,  like  those  idiots  in  the  Carnival  — 
because  I  am  a  most  unhappy  woman ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  looking  at  her,  surprised. 

I  assure  you,  I  understand  you  less  and  less ! 


172  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  had  an  end  to  gain,  and  I  thought  it  precious ;  but  I 
have  suddenly  begun  to  loathe  it !  When  I  met  that  poor 
girl  just  now,  and  looked  into  her  face,,  I  was  filled  with 
compassion  and  shame.  She  is  dying,  I  say,  and  between 
us  we  are  killing  her !  Dying  because  she  loves  you,  and 
because  she  thinks  you  despise  her !  Dying  because  you 
have  turned  away  from  her,  and  she  has  tried  to  stifle  the 
pang  !  Dying  because  I  have  held  you  here  —  under  com 
pulsion  of  a  scoundrel  —  and  she  thinks  she  has  lost^ou 
forever  !  I  read  it  all  in  her  eyes  —  the  purest  I  ever  saw. 
I  am  sick  of  the  ghastly  comedy,  and  I  must  tell  the  miser 
able  truth.  If  you  will  believe  me,  it 's  not  too  late ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  amazed  and  bewildered 

Under  compulsion  —  of  a  scoundrel  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  have  the  misfortune  to  be  in  the  clutches  of  one,  and  so 
has  our  little  friend.  You  know  that  her  mother's  horrible 
courier  was  once  in  my  husband's  service.  Thanks  to  that 
accident,  he  has  some  papers  of  mine  which  I  wish  to  buy 
back.  To  make  me  pay  for  them,  he  has  forced  me  to  play 
his  game. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

His  game  ?     What  has  he  to  do  with  a  game  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  don't  defend  him  :  I  explain.  He  has  selected  a  hus 
band  for  his  young  lady,  and  your  superior  attractions  had 
somehow  to  be  muffled  up.  You  were  to  be  kept  out  of  the 
way. 

WINTERBOURNE,  frowniug. 

Because  I  love  her  ?  (Correcting  himself.)  I  mean,  because 
he  thinks  so. 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE  SIXTH. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  smiling. 

You  see  I  am   right!     Because  she  loves  you:    he  has-' 
discovered  that !     So  he  had  the  happy  thought  of  saying 
me,  "  Keep  Mr.  Winterbourne  employed,  and  if  the  ; 
lady  marries  my  candidate  you  shall  have  your  letter." 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Your  letter  ?     What  letter  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

A  very  silly  —  but  very  innocent  —  one  that  I  wrote  some 
ten  years  ago. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Why  did  n't  you  ask  me  to  get  it  ? 

>  MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

Because  I  didn't  want  it  enough  for  that;  and  now  I 
don't  want  it  all. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  shall  have  it  —  I  promise  you  that. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  are  very  generous,  after  the  trick  I  have  played  you. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

The  trick  ?     Was  it  all  a  trick  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

An  infamous,  pitiless  trick  !  I  was  frightened,  I  was 
tempted,  I  was  demoralized  ;  he  had  me  in  his  power.  To 
be  cruel  to  you  was  bad  enough :  to  be  cruel  to  her  was  a 
crime  I  shall  try  to  expiate  !  ' 

WINTERBOURNE,  seated,  his  head  in  his  hands. 

You  will  excuse  me  if  I  feel  rather  stunned. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  sinking  on  her  knees. 

I  ask  your  forgiveness !  I  have  been  living  in  a  bad 
dream. 


174  DAISY   MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Ah,  you  have  hurt  me  —  more  than  I  can  say  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  rising  to  her  feet. 

Don't  think  of  yourself — think  of  her!  If  I  had  only 
met  her  before,  how  much  sooner  /  should  have  done  that ! 
TVe  will  go  and  find  her  together  ;  we  will  bring  her  back  ; 
we  will  nurse  her  and  comfort  her,  and  make  her  understand  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

It's  all  so  extraordinary  —  and  I  have  only  your  word 
for  it. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

See  if  she  contradicts  me  when  you  tell  her  you  love  her  ! 
You  don't  venture  to  deny  that. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  have  denied  it  to  myself :  why  should  n't  I  deny  it  to 
you? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

You  have  denied  it  to  yourself  ?  Who,  then,  had  charged 
you  with  it  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

You  are  not  consistent,  but  you  are  perhaps  more  con 
sistent  than  I.  And  you  are  very  deep  1 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  am  deep  enough  to  be  very  sure  that  from  this  moment 
forward  I  shall  be  nothing  to  you.  If  I  have  cured  you  of 
a  baseless  passion,  that  at  least  is  a  good  work.  Venture  to 
say  that  for  these  three  weeks  I  have  satisfied  you. 

WINTERBOURNE,  turning  away. 

You  are  pitiless  —  you  are  terrible  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  looking  at  him  a  moment. 

My  vanity  bleeds  :  be  that  my  penance  !  Don't  lose 
time.  Go  to  her  now. 


ACT   THIRD:  SCENE  SIXTH.  175 

WINTERBOURNE,  in  thought,  gloomily. 

Dying  ?  —  Dying  ?  —  Dying  ? 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

That  was  a  little  for  the  sake  of  argument.  She  will  live 
again  —  for  you ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  in  the  same  tone. 

Gone  out  with  that  man  ?     Always  with  him  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

My  dear  friend,  she  has  her  little  pride,  as  well  as  you 
She  pretends  to  flirt  with  Giovanelli  because  her  poor, 
swollen  heart  whispers  to  her  to  be  brave  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  uncertain. 

.Pretends  —  only  pretends  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  impatient. 

Oh,  you  have  been  stupid  ;  but  be  clever  now  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  after  a  pause. 

How  am  I  to  know  that  this  is  not  another  trick  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  clasping  her  hands,  but  smiling. 

Have  mercy  on  me  !     Those  words  are  my  punishment ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

I  have  been  an  idiot  —  I  have  been  a  brute  —  I  have  been 
a  butcher ! 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF. 

Perhaps  she  has  come  back.     Tor  God's  sake,  go  and  see  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

And  if  she  is  still  out  there  ?  I  can't  talk  of  these  things 
in  the  street. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Bring  her  home,  bring  her  home  !  Every  moment 's  a 
danger.  I  offered  to  go  with  you ;  but  you  would  rather  go 
alone 


176  DAISY  MILLER:  A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE,  takes  up  his  hat. 

Yes,  I  would  rather  go  alone.     You  have  hurt  me  very 
much ;  but  you  shall  have  your  letter. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  don't  care  for  my  letter  now.     There  's  such  a  weight 
off  my  heart  that  I  don't  feel  that  one.     (She  leaves  the  room  by 

the  right,  and  Winterbourne  is  on  the  point  of  quitting  it  on  the  other  side,  when 
Mrs.  Walker,  Miss  Durant,  and  Charles  Reverdy  come  in,  meeting  him.) 


SCENE  SEVENTH. 

WINTERBOURNE,  MRS.  WALKER,  MISS  DURANT,  REVERDY. 
MRS.    WALKER. 

Pray,  where  is  your  aunt,  Mr.  Winterbourne?  I  have 
brought  her  back  her  truants. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She  has  retired  to  her  room,  to  nurse  a  headache  produced 
by  the  sudden  collapse  of  her  illusions. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  thought  she  would  be  rather  shocked  ;  but  Mr.  Reverdy 
assured  me  that  in  the  Carnival  all  common  laws  are  sus 
pended. 

REVERDY. 

So  we  thought  the  law  that  governs  Mrs.  Costello's  head 
aches  might  conform  to  the  others. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

What  did  you  think  about  the  law  that  governs  her 
temper  ? 

REVERDY. 

Nothing  at  all,  because,  so  far  as  I  have  ascertained, 
there  is  n't  any  ! 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE   SEVENTH.  177 

MRS.   WALKER,  to  Winterbourne. 

They  were  jostling  along,  arm  in  arm,  in  the  midst  of  the 
excited  populace.  I  saw  them  from  my  carriage,  and,  having 
the  Consul  with  me,  I  immediately  overhauled  them.  The 
young  lady  had  a  wonderful  disguise,  but  I  recognized  her 
from  Mr.  Reverdy's  mariner. 

MISS    DURANT. 

There,  sir,  I  told  you  you  had  too  much  ! 

REVERDY,  aside. 

One  needs  a  good  deal,  when  one 's  about  to  make  an  offer 
of  one 's  heart.  (Aloud.)  It  takes  a  vast  deal  of  manner  to 

Carry  off  a  tin  trumpet  !       ( Winterbourne  has  listened  to  this  absently; 
he  appears  restless  and  preoccupied ;  walks  up,  and  goes  out  upon  the  balcony.) 
MRS.   WALKER,  noticing  Winterbourne. 

What 's  the  matter  with  him  ?  —  All  I  can  say  is  that  in 
my  representative  position  I  thought  I  must  interfere. 

REVERDY,  aside. 

The  wife  of  the  Consul  again  ?  Our  consuls  ought  to  be 
bachelors ! 

MRS.    WALKER. 

You  were  dragging  her  along,  with  your  arm  placed  as  if 
you  were  waltzing. 

REVERDY. 

That 's  very  true  ;  we  were  just  trying  a  few  rounds. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

In  that  dense  mass  of  people,  where  you  were  packed  like 
sardines  ? 

REVERDY. 

We  were  all  turning  together;  it  was  all  one  waltz  ! 

MRS.   WALKER,  to  Miss  Durant. 

Mrs.  Costello,  my  dear,  will  make  you  dance  in  earnest ! 


178  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  don't  care  for  Mrs.  Costello  now ! 

REVERDY. 

Let  me  thank  you  for  those  noble  words.     (Aside.)     You 
understood,  then  ? 

MISS   DURANT,  ingenuous. 

Understood  what  ? 

REVERDY. 

What  I  was  saying  when  she  came  down  on  us. 

MISS    DURANT. 

Oh  yes,  as  far  as  you  had  gone  ! 

REVERDY. 

I  must  go  a  little  farther. 

MRS.    WALKER,  who  has  gone  up  to  Winterbourne,  and  comes  down  with  him. 

You  may  be  interested  to  hear  that  I  saw  our  little  friend 
in  the  crowd. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

-Our  little  friend? 

MRS.    WALKER. 

Whom  we  tried  to   save  from  drowning.     I  didn't  try 
this  time. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

In  the  crowd,  on  foot  ? 

MRS.    WALKER. 

In  the  thickest  and  roughest  part  of  it,  on  Giovanelli's 
arm.     The  crush  was  so  dense,  it  was  enough  to  kill  her. 

MISS    DURANT. 

They  are  very  good-natured,  but  you  do  suffocate  ! 

MRS.    WALKER. 

She  '11  suffocate  easily,  in  her  weak  state. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh,  I  can't  stand  this  !     Excuse  me.     (Exit  Winterbournc.) 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  EIGHTH.  179 

MRS.    WALKER. 

What 's  the  matter  with  him,  I  should  like  to  know  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 

He  has  been  like  that  these  three  weeks,  rushing  in  and 
out  —  always  in  a  fidget. 

KEVERDY,  to  Mrs.  Walker. 

He 's  in  love  with  Miss  Durant,  and  he  can't  stand  the 
spectacle  of  our  mutual  attachment. 

MISS     DURANT,  gayly. 

You  horrid  vain  creature  !     If  that 's  all  that  troubles 
him  ! 

REVERDY,  aside. 

She  '11   accept   me  !     (Aloud.)     Courage  —  the   old   lady  ! 

(Enter  Mrs.  Coatello.) 


SCENE  EIGHTH. 

MRS.  WALKER,  MISS  DURANT,  REVERDY,  MRS.  COSTELLO ; 

THEN  DAISY,  WINTERBOURNE,   GIOVANELLI,  MADAME 

DE  KATKOFF. 

MRS.    COSTELLO.  (She  stops  a  moment,  looking  sternly  from  Miss  Durant  to 
Reverdy.) 

Alice  Durant,  have  you  forgotten  your  education  ? 

MISS    DURANT. 

Dear  Cousin  Louisa,  my  education  made  no  provision  for 
the  Carnival  ! 

REVERDY. 

That 's  not  in  the  regular  course  ;  it 's  one  of  the  extras. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  was  just  going  to  your  room,  to  tell  you  we  had  come 
back. 


180  DAISY   MILLER:    A   COMEDY. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  have  passed  an  hour  there,  in  horrible  torture.  I  could 
stand  it  no  longer :  I  came  to  see  if,  for  very  shame,  you 
had  n't  reappeared. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

The  Consul  and  I  picked  them  up,  and  made  them  get 
into  our  carriage.  So  you  see  it  was  not  for  shame ! 

REVERDY. 

It  was  n't  for  ours,  at  least ;  it  was  for  yours. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  with  majesty,  to  Miss  Durant. 

We  shall  start  for  America  to-morrow. 

MISS    DURANT. 

I  am  delighted  to  hear  it.  There,  at  least,  we  can  walk 
about. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Ah,  but  you  will  find  no  Carnival ! 

REVERDY. 

My  dear  Madam,  we  shall  make  our  own. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  aside  to  Miss  Durant. 

This  time,  it 's  to  be  hoped,  he  has  done  it  ? 

MISS    DURAXT,  blushing  and  looking  down. 

He  was  on  the  very  point,  when  Mrs.  Walker  interrupted. 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  declare,  it 's  beyond  a  joke  —  to  take  you  back  just  as  I 
brought  you. 

MISS    DURANT. 

It 's  very  tiresome  ;  but  it 's  not  my  fault. 

REVERDY,  who  has  been  talking  to  Mrs.  Walker 

Miss  Alice,  shall  we  try  the  balcony  again  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

It 's  past  midnight,  if  you  please  j  time  for  us  all  to  retire. 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  EIGHTH.  181 

REVERDY. 

That 's  just  what  I  propose  :  to  retire  to  the  balcony ! 

MISS    DURANT,  to  Mrs.  Costello. 

Just  occupy  Mrs.  Walker  ! 

REVERDY,  to  Mrs.  Walker. 

Just  keep  hold  of  Mrs.  Costello  !       (Offers  his  arm  to  MissDurant, 
and  leads  her  to  the  balcony.) 

MRS.   WALKER,  looking  after  them. 

I  must  wait  till  the  Consul  comes.     My  dear  friend,  I 
hope  those  young  people  are  engaged. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  with  asperity. 

They  might  be,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  you ! 

MRS.    WALKER,  surprised. 

Pray,  how  have  I  prevented  ?  .  .  . 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

You   interrupted   Mr.    Reverdy,   just   now,  in   the  very 
middle  .  .  . 

MRS.    WALKER. 

The  middle  of  a  declaration  ?     I  thought  it  was  a  jig ! 

(As  the  door  of  the  room  is  flung  open.)  Bless  my  SOul  !  what 's  this  ? 
(Enter  rapidly  Winterbourne,  carrying  Daisy,  in  a  swoon,  in  his  arms,  and  followed 
by  Giovanelli,  who  looks  both  extremely  alarmed  and  extremely  indignant.  At  the 
same  moment  Madame  de  Katkoff  enters  from  the  opposite  side.) 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  with  a  cry. 

Ah,  it 's  all  over  !     She  is  gone  ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

A  chair !     A  chair  !     Heaven  forgive  us,  she  is  dying  ! 

(Giovanelli  has  quickly  pushed  forward  a  large  arm-chair,  in  which  Winterbourne 
places  Daisy  with  great  tenderness.  She  lies  there  motionless  and  unconscious. 
The  others  gather  round.  Miss  Durant  and  Reverdy  come  in  from  the  balcony.) 

MRS.   COSTELLO,  seeing  the  two  last. 

Ah,  they  're  interrupted  again  ! 


182  DAISY  MILLER:    A  COMEDY. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

This  time,  she  's  really  drowned  ! 

GIOVANELLI,  much  agitated,  but  smiling  to  Mrs.  Costello  and  Mrs.  Walker. 

It  will  pass  in  a  moment.  It  is  only  the  effect  of  the 
crowd  —  the  pressure  of  the  mob  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  beside  Daisy,  with  passionate  tenderness. 

It  will  pass  —  because  she  's  passing  !  Dead  —  dead  — 
in  my  arms ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  harshly. 

A  pretty  place  for  her  to  be  !  She  '11  come  to  life  again  : 
they  don't  die  like  that. 

MRS.    WALKER,  indignant,  to  Giovanelli. 

The  pressure  of  the  mob?     A  proper  pressure  —  for  a 

little  Flower ! 

GIOVANELLI,  bewildered  and  apologetic. 

She  was  so  lovely  that  they  all  made  way  ;  but  just  near 
the  hotel  we  encountered  one  of  those  enormous  cars,  laden 
with  musicians  and  maskers.  The  crowd  was  driven  back, 
and  we  were  hustled  and  smothered.  She  gave  a  little  cry, 
and  before  I  knew  it  she  had  fainted.  The  next  moment 
this  gentleman  —  by  I  know  not  what  warrant  —  had  taken 
her  in  his  arms. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

By  the  warrant  of  being  her  countryman  !  Instead  of 
entertaining  those  ladies,  you  had  better  go  for  a  doctor. 

GIOVANELLI. 

They  have  sent  from  the  hotel.  Half  a  dozen  messengers 
started. 

REVERDY. 

Half  a  dozen  is  no  one  at  all !  I  will  go  and  bring  one 
myself —  in  five  minutes. 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  EIGHTH.        183 
MISS  DURANT. 

Go,  go,  my  dear !     I  give  you  leave.     (neverdy  hurries  out.) 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  to  Miss  Durant. 

"  My  dear,  my  dear  "  ?     Has  lie  done  it,  then? 

MISS    DURANT. 

Oh  yes,  we  just  managed  it.  (Looking  at  Daisy.)  Poor  little 
thing ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

Ah,  she  has  n't  a  husband  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  angry,  desperate,  to  the  others. 

Can't  you  do  something  ?  Can't  you  speak  to  her  ?  — 
can't  you  help  her  ? 

MRS.    WALKER. 

I  will   do    anything   in   the  world  !     I  will   go  for   the 

Consul.       (She  hurries  away  on  the  right.) 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

I  have  something  in  my  room  —  a  precious  elixir,  that  I 
use  for  my  headaches.  (TO  Miss  Durant.)  But  I  '11  not  leave  you  ! 

MISS    DURANT. 

Not  even  now  ? 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 
Not  till  you  are  married  !       (They  depart  on  the  left.) 

WINTERBOURNE,  holding  Daisy's  hands  and  looking  into  her  face* 

Daisy  !  —  Daisy  !  —  Daisy  ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  who  all  this  time  hasheen  kneeling  on  the  other 
side  of  her,  her  face  buried  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  in  the  attitude  of  a  per- 
son  weeping. 

If  she  can  hear  that,  my  friend,  she  's  saved  !  (TO  Daisy, 
appealing.)  My  child,  my  child,  we  have  wronged  you,  but 
we  love  you ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  in  the  same  manner. 

Daisy,  my  dearest,  my  darling  !  Wake  a  moment,  if  only 
to  forgive  me ! 


184  DAISY   MILLER:   A   COMEDY. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

She   moves   a   little  !      (Aside,  rising  to  her  feet.)     Pie   never 
spoke  so  to  me  ! 

GIOVANELLI,  a  little  apart,  looking  round  him. 

Where  is  he,  where  is  he  —  that  ruffian  Eugenio  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

In  the  name  of  pity,  has  no  one  gone  for  her  mother  ? 
(TO  Giovancm.)     Don't  stand  there,  sir  !     Go  for  her  mother ! 

GIOVANELLI,  angrily. 

Give  your  commands  to  some  one  else !     It  is  not  for  me 
to  do  your  errands. 

MADAME   DE    KATKOFF,  going  to  him  pleadingly. 

Have  n't  you  common  compassion  ?     Do  you  want  to  see 
the  child  die  ? 

GIOVANELLI,  folding  his  arms. 

I  would  rather  see  her  die  than  live  to  be  his ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

There  is  little  hope  of  her  being  mine.     I  have  insulted 
—  I  have  defamed  —  her  innocence  ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

Ay,  speak  of  her  innocence  !     Her  innocence  was  divine ! 

DAISY,  stirring  and  murmuring. 

Mother !     Mother ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

She  lives,  she  lives,  and  she  shall  choose  between  us ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

Ah,  when  I  hear  her  voice,  I  obey  !     (Exit.) 

DAISY,  slowly  opening  her  eyes. 

Where  am  I  ?     Where  have  I  been  ? 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

She 's  saved !     She  's  saved  ! 


ACT   THIRD:   SCENE 
WINTERBOURNE. 

You  are  with  me,  little  Daisy.     With  me  forever ! 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Ah,  decidedly  I  had  better  leave  you  !     (Goes  out  to  the  balcony.) 

DAISY,  looking  at  Winterbourne. 

With  you  ?     With  you  ?     What  has  happened  ? 

WINTERBOURNE,  still  on  his  knees  beside  her. 

Something  very  blessed.    I  understand  you  —  I  love  you  ! 

DAISY,  gazing  at  him  a  moment. 

Oh,  I  'm  Very  happy  !       (Sinks  back  again,  closing  her  eyes.) 
WINTERBOURNE. 

We  shall  be  happy  together  when  you  have  told  me  you 
forgive  me.  Let  me  hear  you  say  it  —  only  three  words  ! 
(He  waits,  she  remains  silent.)  Ah,  she  sinks  away  again ! 
Daisy,  won't  you  live  —  won't  you  live  for  me  ? 

DAISY,  murmuring. 

It  was  all  for  you  —  it  was  all  for  you  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  burying  his  head  in  her  lap. 

Vile  idiot !     Impenetrable  fool ! 

DAISY,  with  her  eyes  still  closed. 

I  shaU  be  better  —  but  you  must  n't  leave  me. 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Never  again,  Daisy  —  never  again  !     (At  this  moment  Eupmio 

strides  into  the  room  by  the  door  opposite  to  the  one  through  which  Giovanelli  has 
gone  out.J 


SCENE  NINTH. 

WINTERBOURNE,     DAISY,    ETTGENIO,     MADAME    DE    KAT 
KOFF;     THEN    RANDOLPH,    AND   ALL   THE   OTHERS. 
EUGENIO,  looking  amazed  at  Daisy  and  Winterbourne. 

What  does  this  mean  ?     What  horrible   thing   has  hap- 
pened  ? 


186  DAISY  MILLER:   A  COMEDY. 

WINTERBOURNE,  on  his  feet. 

You  will  learn  what  has  happened  quite  soon  enough  to 
please  you  !     But  in  the  meanwhile,  it  is  decent  that  this 

young  lady  should  See  her    mother.       (While  he  speaks,  Madame  de 
Katkoff  comes  back  and  takes  her  place  at  Daisy's  side,  where  she  stands  with  her 

eyes  fixed  upon  Eugenic.) 

EUGENIC. 

Her  mother  is  not  important  :  Miss  Miller  is  in  my  care. 
Car  a  signorina,  do  you  suffer  ? 

DAISY,  vaguely. 

Poor  mother,  poor  mother!     She  has  gone  to  the  Car 

nival. 

EUGENIC. 

She  came  home  half  an  hour  ago.     She  has  gone  to  bed. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Don't  you  think  there  would  be  a  certain  propriety  in  your 

requesting  her  to  get  Up  ?       (Randolph  comes  in  at  this  moment,  hearing 

Madame  de  Katkoff's  words.) 

RANDOLPH. 

She  is  getting  up,  you  can  bet  your  life  !     She  's  going  to 
give  it  to  Daisy. 


Come  and  speak  to  your  sister.     She  has  been  very  iU. 

(She  draws  Randolph  towards  her,  and  keeps  him  near  her.) 
DAISY,  smiling  languidly  at  her  brother. 

You  are  up  very  late  —  very  late. 

RANDOLPH. 

I  can't   sleep  —  over  here!     I've  been   talking   to   that 
waiter. 

EUGENIO,  anxious. 

I  don't  see  the  Cavaliere.     Where  is  he  gone? 

RANDOLPH. 

He  came  up  to  tell  mother,  and  I  came  back  ahead  of 

him.       (To  Giovanelli,  who  at  this  moment  returns.)       Hallo,  Cavaliere  I 


ACT  THIRD:   SCENE   NINTH.  187 

GIOVANELLI,  solemnly,  coming  in. 

Mrs.  Miller  is  dressing.     She  will  presently  arrive. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF,  to  Randolph. 

Go  and  help   your  mother,  and  tell  her  your   sister  is 
better. 

RANDOLPH. 

I  '11  tell  her  through  the  door  —  or  she  '11  put  me  to  bed  ! 

(Marches  away.) 

GIOVANELLI,  approaching  Eugenio,  aside. 

I  shall  never  have  the  girl ! 

EUGENIO. 
You  had  better  have  killed  her  !     (Aside.)     He  shall  pay 

me  for  his  flowers  !       (Reenter  Reverdy.) 
REVERDY. 

The  doctor  will  be  here  in  five  minutes. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

He  will  not  be  necessary  now ;  nor  even  (seeing  Mrs.  Costeiio 

come  back  with  a  little  bottle,  and  accompanied  by  Miss  Durant)  this   lady's 

precious  elixir  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  approaching  Daisy,  rather  stiffly. 

Perhaps  you  would  like  to  hold  it  to  your  nose. 

DAISY,   takes  the  phial,  looking  at  Mrs.  Costeiio  with  a  little  smile. 

Well,  I  was  bound  you  should  speak  to  me  ! 

REVERDY. 

And  without  a  presentation,  after  all ! 

WINTERBOURNE. 

Oh  yes,  I  must  present.     (TO  his  aunt.)     I  present  you  my 
wife! 

GIOVANELLI,  starting;  then  recovering  himself  and  folding  his  arms. 

I  congratulate  you,  Mademoiselle,  on  your  taste  for  the 
unexpected. 


188  DAISY  MILLER:   A.  COMEDY. 

DAISY. 

Well,  it  is  unexpected.     But  I  never  deceived  you ! 

GIOVANELLI. 

Oh,  no,  you  have  u't  deceived  me  :   you  have  only  ruined 

me! 

DAISY. 

Poor  old  Giovanelli !     Well,  you  've  had  a  good  time. 

MRS.    COSTELLO,  impressively,  to  Winterbourne. 

Your  wife  ? 

WINTERBOURNE. 

My  dear  aunt,  she  has  stood  the  test ! 

EUGENIO,  who  has  walked  round  to  Madame  de  Katkoff,  in  a  low  tone. 

You  have  n't  kept  the  terms  of  our  bargain. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

I  am  sick  of  your  bargain  —  and  of  you  ! 

EUGENIO.       (He  eyes  her  a  moment ;  then,  vindictively.) 

I  shall  give  your  letter  to  Mr.  Winterbourne. 

MADAME    DE    KATKOFF. 

Coward  !      (Aside,  joyously.)     And   Mr.   Winterbourne   will 
give  it  to  me. 

GIOVANELLI,  beside  Eugenio. 

You  must  find  me  another  heiress. 

EUGENIO. 

I  thought  you  said  you  had  had  enough. 

GIOVANELLI. 

I  have  been  thinking  over  my  debts. 

EUGENIO. 

We  will  see,  then,  with  my  next  family.     On  the   same 
terms,  eh  ? 

GIOVANELLI. 
Ah,  no  ;    I  don't  want  a  rival  !       (Reenter  Mrs.  Walker.) 


ACT  THIRD:  SCENE  NINTH.  189 

MRS.    WALKER,  to  Daisy. 

I  can't  find  the  Consul ;  but  as  you  're  better  it  does  n't 
matter. 

DAISY. 
I  don't  want  the  Consul :  I  want  my  mother. 

MRS.    WALKER. 

I  went  to  her  room  as  well.     Eandolph  had  told  her  you 

Were   better,  and   SO  — and    SO  —  (Pausing,  a  little  embarrassed,  and 
looking  round  the  circle.) 

DAISY. 

She  is  n't  coming  ? 

MRS.    WALKER. 

She  has  gone  back  to  bed  ! 

MRS.    COSTELLO. 

They  are  queer  people,  all  the  same  ! 

MISS     DURANT,  to  Mrs.  Costello. 

Shall  we  start  for  America  now  ? 

REVERDY. 

Of  course  we  shall  —  to  be  married  ! 

WINTERBOURNE,  laying  his  hand  on  Reverdy's  shoulder. 

We  shall  be  married  the  same  day.     (TO  Daisy.)     Shall  we 
not,  Daisy  —  in  America  ? 

DAISY,  who  has  risen  to  her  feet,  leaning  on  his  arm. 

Oh,  yes  ;  you  ought  to  go  home  ! 


Cambridge :  University  Press,  John  Wilson  &  Son. 


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